Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas
by Xed Alpha
Summary: Some people have Christmas traditions. Some people have mortal enemies. Rarely do these things overlap. Several short chapters over 12 years. This is the tale of Armani's Christmas Eve.
1. Chapter 1: 2000

[A/N] Well I was always intending to do a Christmas take at some point, only over the past year or so that it occurred I would be doing it in the Broken Bow continuity. Who doesn't love christmas after all, plus it feels good to be writing again. This is just a one-shot, I'm going to festively split it into 12 short chapters. It was originally under the working title Swordfights and Sleigh bells, with a subtitle, but I've decided to use the revised one instead, I also changed it at the end of BB5, just to mesh together. Anyhow, let's get this thing moving...

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 1: 2000**

**December 24****th**** 2000****, 11:35pm**

'Santa' was doing his rounds, as he did every year. And, as usual, he had already set down what would have _normally_ been the last present of the evening, in this instance it had been under the tree of young Michael Yew, and had been climbing back into his 'sleigh', when an idea occurred to him.

It was little more than a whim, but considering the lone soul that came into mind, he decided it would be a nice thing to do and 'Santa' being 'Santa' he was often one to give into such whims.

Little did 'Santa' know (and he really should have, considering who he was), this decision would spark a chain of events that would end up becoming a very strange Christmas tradition.

And so here he was, walking as silent as a mouse through the halls of a particular orphanage. He reached the end door in the corridor of the single rooms that each housed one of the young children.

Thankfully the door was without a lock and the man in red managed to open it without so much as a squeak and crept inside.

He paused to regard the tiny figure, curled up like a little wolf cub under the blankets, only a small mop of unevenly cut bangs visible on the pillow.

It had been a while since he had last seen him. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of 'Santa's' face as he realised the boy had barely grown at all. Even asleep, the slumbering form had a slight frown etched into his small face, as if his dreams alone were annoying him, his lips twitching occasionally into a pout.

The room was scarce, not decorated with any crayon-drawn pictures or the like. So perfectly ordered; in a sad way it was far too ordered for someone of his age.

He smiled lamentably as he quietly set down the gift he had hastily bought en route from a 24 hour Wal-Mart. He wasn't sure if a Gameboy was his thing, but it would have to suffice. Who knows, 'Santa' contemplated with a note of amusement, perhaps he might secretly end up liking it.

And with that, he turned to leave. It was _also_ here when he made his mistake.

He let out a tiny, lamenting sigh under his breath, the entire room warming up a couple of degrees in the process.

As he opened the door, he spared one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping child in the bed.

Only the bed was now empty.

'Santa' frowned and turned about, stepping back into the room, "What the-" he muttered, but was cut off when something hard cracked off the side of his skull with a resounding 'clonk'

He staggered back, his hand going to his head, "What in _Hades_'?" he groaned and it was then that he spied him, crouched into a squat on top of the wardrobe, the table lamp he had just smashed of 'Santa's' head still raised in defence, his glistening silver eyes wild like a disturbed animal.

'Santa' raised his hands to calm him, "Easy, little boy," he said in that deep voice, "now why don't you-" again he was cut off as the boy flung the lamp sideways between his raised hands, clanking him square on the forehead between his eyes.

'Santa' staggered back a step, his voice changing for a second to that of a much younger man as he cursed once in Greek.

He glanced back just in time to see the small boy propel himself straight at him and right into his wide chest.

It knocked him back a step but he instantly brought his arms around the flailing child and both vanished in a flash of yellow light, reappearing in the courtyard outside, the railed off area illuminated by only a single spotlight and the lights of the large Christmas tree that dominated the space.

Alarmed, the boy pushed back from his target and staggered back, his tiny feet crunching the freshly fallen snow.

His eyes flicked about, still startled and he sniffed the air once or twice.

"Don't you know who I am?" demanded 'Santa' in his deep voice.

The boy's eyes flicked back to him like a wolf sighting his prey.

'Santa' coughed, "Why, I'm Santa Claus!" he said a gaily as possible and then he shook his head slowly, "It's very, very naughty to try and beat up Santa Claus, little boy."

The child's brow twitched into a bewildered frown, one eyebrow raising slightly above the other; an odd sight on one so young.

Considering who he was, 'Santa' wasn't too surprised at his reaction to an unknown person sneaking into his room at night. All factors considered 'Santa' probably should have known better, not that he'd ever admit it.

"Now then, young man, off to bed," said 'Santa' waving his hand in the direction of the main doors.

The boy scowled and 'Santa' watched as his knees crouched slightly, readying to strike.

'Santa' realised the boy's combat reflexes were very good, especially for a child of his age, though if he had awakened them at this early stage of his development, then it could be very problematic in future, especially if the beasts start to catch his scent.

'Santa' reared to the side to dodge the boy using a speed that was unnatural for someone of his large mass and leapt back a good metre, landing slightly crouched in front of the Christmas tree.

'Santa' suddenly realised that teleporting the boy outside was probably not the best way of proving that he was just some harmless old man, if anything it was probably stirring his defensive reflexes up into a frenzy, luckily the little boy had little combat ability beyond charging and hitting, but he was abnormally nimble for one his age.

He raised his hands again, speaking in a low, controlled tone, as one might calm an animal, "Calm, just...be calm... Nobody's going to hurt you." 'Santa's' eyes flicked to the side as he heard the rattling of the main gate and spied a silhouette of something coated in Mist.

"It smells him..." he whispered inaudibly to himself, realising that this place would soon not be safe enough to hide the boy anymore.

It battered once off the gateway, and the thin golden barrier that had been put up to defend the structure pulsed once, destroying the shadowy form and leaving little more than a pile of dust in its wake.

The man turned back to see the boy looking on in shock, his eyes went back to his, and they narrowed.

'Santa' blinked, "Wait, now wait just a moment. That had nothing to do with Santa. In fact, Santa helped make it go away, I- Whoah!" he cried as the boy lunged at him again, this time he vanished into an almost comical cloud of party streamers and tinsel, the boy carrying right on and ploughing into the tree behind him.

The child let out a panicked yelp as he fell into the branches and rolled over until he found himself trapped and tangled up in a mass of Christmas tree lights and decoration.

'Santa' stepped out from the shadow of the tree, "Close one..." he sighed, "But Santa knows why you did what you did and won't hold it against you."

The boy hung there glumly and almost dejectedly, having realised that the man in red could have probably killed him if he wanted, especially now he was trapped.

The man cocked his head, "Now would you like Santa to help you down?" asked the man in his deep voice, only now there was a slightly cocky edge to it and the boy found himself scowling at the man.

"No" he said.

"_Oh_? And why not?"

"Can do it 'self" grumbled the boy as he wiggled about, only causing himself to be tangled up more.

'Santa' sighed with a small smile. He flinched as lights began turning on in the building behind him.

He waved a hand and a red sleigh shimmered into existence as if out of nowhere.

One of the reindeer shifted its hoof and the little boy could've sworn he heard what sounded like a car engine revving, which he found most peculiar.

'Santa' smiled apologetically and boarded his sleigh which began to rise off into the air.

Santa looked down at the small form hanging glumly in the tree… and he'd never be sure _what_ inspired the next words out his mouth, only that they'd cause more trouble than he could've possibly imagined at the time.

He smiled cockily, "Not bad, young man, you fought well. Better luck next year! Ha ha-..umm.. Th-that is, Ho Ho Ho!"

And with a blur the man in red vanished in a blaze of yellow light.

A second later the main doors were flung open and the matron, a kindly middle aged lady with her hair tied back into a bun, took a step outside, her eyes sweeping about for a disturbance. Then she sighted the tree.

She adjusted her wire frame glasses and narrowed her eyes as she walked hesitantly towards it. She let out a slightly shocked gasp as she recognised the form wrapped up in the branches.

She hurried up to the tree and looked up at the boy who, thankfully, looked totally unharmed.

She paused and folded her arms, cocking a dark eyebrow upwards as the boy looked back down at her, "Armani...do I even want to _know_ what you're doing up there?" she paused, then sighed, "Well?"

The boy looked impassively back at her for a moment and then said in his small voice, "...fell out of bed."

She blinked, "You... fell out of bed? And... out the door...across the courtyard...and... up into a tree?"

He was quiet again, then he merely cocked his head to the side and nodded as best he could, "...Yup."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment and, giving up, she shook her head and let out a long, tired breath, "Well I suppose it's not the strangest place I've found you... Come on, you..." she said, reaching into the mass of wires and slipping him free, she hung the tiny child over her shoulder and turned about, "Back to bed, " she said as she carried him back inside, "You don't want to stay up too late, Santa might not come if you do."

The boy opened his mouth to speak, and then decided it was probably better if he didn't.

Still, those words were burned indignantly into his young mind as he looked back up into the starry winter's night.

_Next year..._

_To be continued..._

[A/N] Like I said, short chapters. I was always planning on doing a prequel at some point, and so this sort of kills two birds with one stone. I'll suppose I'll catch you for the next little chapter which is, as you might have guessed:

Chapter 2: 2001


	2. Chapter 2: 2001

[A/N] Seasons greetings to all, hope you're enjoying this little experiment into the festive season. As this tale serves as both a prequel and a christmas special I've kind of killed two birds with one stone. Hope it keeps you entertained...

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 2: 2001**

**December 24th 2001 10:30pm**

Apollo was pacing about, and if he were aware of the slight singe he was burning into the newly laid carpet, he didn't show it.

He really needed to get going.

He turned about to regard the form sat almost rigidly at attention on the sofa, "Are you _sure_ you don't want to go to bed? I mean...it really is getting late."

Armani didnt respond, he merely shook his head once to the left and then to the right and resumed his posture, his fingers drumming occasionally on the arm. The only sound coming from him was the hiss of breath every time he blew the pompom off the Santa hat perched on his head out his face (he'd given up trying to tear it off as soon as he learned Apollo had enchanted it to instantly reappear on his head).

The god shifted almost nervously, "You sure?"

He nodded, followed by another puff of breath.

He took a breath, "You really should. If you don't, Santa might not come."

A twitch of the eye.

Apollo sighed and turned about, reaching for the front dooknob.

"He'll come." A tiny voice suddenly said.

Apollo paused, "Oh, and what makes you so sure?"

"Because if he doesnt... I win."

Despite his efforts, Apollo found his brow twitching into a scowl, "And how do you figure that out?"

Little Armani frowned, "Because he ran away last time. He was scared, he was probably worried I'd beat him."

"R-really? I'm sure that's not how Santa remembers it. I'm sure he just didn't want to be seen by anyone else.."

Armani scowled and turned to look at the god, "No, he got scared and ran away!"

"That's not what happened!"

"Yeah, and how would you know!"

"I know all and see all!"

"Then you know he'll be here!"

"Oh, he'll be here! He'll be here alright, and you'll be sorry!" Shouted the god and slammed the door behind him.

Armani fumed for a moment, then frowned in thought as to _why_ he was so angry. Pushing the thought aside for a moment he slid down and hopped off the sofa and prodded over to the wooden chest in the corner, the one where Apollo stores all his pointy and sharp things, and flipped the lid open.

He clambered up and over the rim, reaching down to the bottom, small legs flailing up as he leaned back and pulled out his minature training crossbow. Pausing to flick the bobble of his hat out of his eyes, he trotted back over to the couch and climbed back up. Pulling back the string, he adjusted the sight and took aim at the fireplace, waiting...

**11:35pm**

'Santa' climbed over the edge of his sleigh and onto the condo's flat roof. He paced over to the chimney and paused, glancing down.

The fire hadn't been lit, so he snapped his finger and vanished with a flash, reappearing crouched down in front of the fireplace.

He glanced up, and then suddenly found himself face to face with what, at first glance, could be mistaken for an elf with a crossbow.

'Santa' locked eyes with him as a small smile spreading across the child's face, "Submit." said the boy simply

'Santa's' eyes narrowed at the boy, "I give you points for courage, little one, but you wouldn't really shoot Santa, now would you?"

He got his answer a split-second later.

'Santa' flicked an eyebrow up and the bolt burst into a cloud of ash mid-flight.

Unfortunately it was followed by the actual crossbow itself.

'Santa' cursed loudly as the weapon hit him smack in the face.

He scrambled up, cradling his nose, "Again between the eyes! Why is it always right between the damned eyes!"

He didn't even need to look as he snatched the boy out the air by the scruff of his shirt before he managed to finish his kick.

Armani's legs flailed in the air as 'Santa' kept him at arm's length, smirking, "Did you really think that-"

He was cut off as the boy somewhat unceremoniously reared back and slammed his forehead into his own.

"Gah! AGAIN!" He cried, losing grip on the child as his hand when to his face, only for the boy to kick him once on the way down.

'Santa' had to admit; that one _hurt_.

The man dropped to his knees, "Ooh, you little _imp_!"

'Santa' gritted his teeth and staggered back to his feet, glaring at the boy who had taken a readied stanse, "Low blow, kid! Low blow!"

"Submit!" The boy repeated, pausing to adjust his hat again.

'Santa' glowered at the boy, his voice shifting, settling somewhere between his deep tone and that of a young man, "Boy, you are a thousand years away from even standing on the same field as me."

Armani frowned, "I'm much stronger than I was last time we met!"

As 'Santa's' retrieved a present and slid it under the tree by his feet, his mouth twitched into a smirk, "Is that so? Then why don't you come _prove it_."

The boy's center of gravity shifted slightly as 'Santa' mirrored his pose and, as the boy attacked, 'Santa's' eyes followed him as the boy leapt up onto the arm of the sofa and kicked out at the taller man, who blocked effortlessly.

The boy thrust himself off the arm and began throwing punches, 'Santa's' hands moving in a blur as he parried him, the child propelling himself of his wide chest and into the air to continue attacking.

'Santa' smiled with amusement as the boy threw out evey move he had been tought over the past year, mixing and changing combos in an effort to get behind the larger man's guard.

Armani landed, staggering back and mopping his brow with his hat bobble, feeling less than amused with the situation than the grinning man in red.

Apollo had been teaching him basic hand to hand combat, at least that's what the sun god called the repeated sessions of pummeling the demigod until he picked up on the lesson at hand.

This one though, he was reading his moves as if he'd seen them a million times.

The smart thing would be to admit when you're outclassed, cut your losses and take it as a life lesson.

It was a shame no one had taken the time to tell that to Armani.

"You have gotten better, you should be proud that you at least-" 'Santa' didn't get to finish as the boy attacked again, barely stopping to breathe until the man gasped hold of the boy's hands.

So what did the boy do?

He did exactly what any wolf would do when someone grabbed hold of his paws.

'Santa' yelped as the boy bit down on his thumb.

"Enough of this!" he shouted in a bellowing voice.

Before the boy could hit the ground, with blinding speed, 'Santa' swung his sack around and scooped the boy out of the air, "_Got you..._"

"Oy!" yelped the boy as he thrashed about, "Lemme out!"

'Santa' held the sack at arm's length and puffed out an exasperated breath and tied the top closed, pausing to hang the thrashing bag on one of the coat hooks.

"Well," said the 'old man', shrugging his shoulders, "...until next year then." His response was a series of indecipherable shouts and moans from inside the bag as 'Santa' turned and vanished.

**December 25th 2001 12:15am**

Apollo closed the condo door behind him, pausing to check himself in the mirror before peeking into the living room, and then into his charge's empty bedroom. The building was oddly silent.

"Armani?" he called gently.

There was a slight muffled mumble and Apollo turned to the sack still hanging from the hook.

The god smiled tiredly and gently lifted the sack off, opening the top up to find the child asleep inside, arms folded and scowling, unconciously chewing on his thumbnail.

Apollo moved to the bedroom and gently deposited the child in the bed and turned to leave as the boycontinued mumbling ocassionally.

Apollo did however feel a slight note of aprehension, just after he turned off the light and began to close the door, the child mumbled "mummm...'smeans _...war_."

The god just shrugged, he could worry about that next year...

_To be continued..._

[A/N] And that's the second year of christmas, hope you enjoyed it. Again I'll try and get the next one out in good time. So with that I'll catch you all again soon in:

Chapter 3: 2002


	3. Chapter 3: 2002

[A/N] And on the third day of Christmas... Well, hello again. Back again for another festive short, I'm glad you're all enjoying the fun so far. One shall endeavour to keep you entertained.

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 3: 2002**

Apollo was sure he had made the right choice. He did, after all, need _someone_ to keep watch on the boy when he wasn't around. Sure; any normal demigod of that age could be probably left to his or her own devices, but then Armani wasn't exactly what he would describe as a _normal_ demigod. Then again, neither was Lanaya what you would call entirely normal for a nymph either.

It was starting to become essential to keep an eye on the child. He was developing a knack for vanishing as soon as someone's back was turned, even if all the doors were locked.

Lanaya was a patient sort, so long as said patience aren't tried too hard. She was an Oak who hailed all the way from Oxford. Classed as an 'Ancient Oak' (though she herself would dispute the title) she was pushing towards her ninth century of existence, and because of her great age and the extensiveness of her own roots, she was one of the few who could use the root system to manifest herself this far away from her physical form.

It was because of her experience that Apollo prized her presence so. She was one of the few spirits who could pass for human unless scrutinised too far. Apollo assumed it was due to her age that her form had grown to almost fully human height. She usually appeared donned in an approximation of a pants suit, and had an odd habit of wearing a pair of wooden framed oval glasses that had no lenses. Also unlike most nymphs, her form was of a mature woman somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties as opposed to the teenage appearance of the younger ones.

The naturally wavy hair that nearly all wood nymphs had was straightened neatly and tied back. Her ability to walk amongst humans in small numbers combined with her power to travel distances via the root system made her ideal to keep an eye on Armani when the sun god wasn't around.

Apollo also thought it unfair that, whilst she showed a maternal, if not somewhat strict, side with his charge, she never seemed to have time to warm up to the sun god himself. The god probably should have also worried about the amount of verbal ticks Armani seemed to pick up from the nymph when she gets upset.

His eyes flicked to the sundial on the wall, which mystically always seemed to work whenever he was in its presence.

"Almost time…"

**9:15pm**

Armani was sat on his teacher's lap on the sofa, a book sprawled out in front of him. The nymph had agreed to watch him over the night whilst he was away, which he _hoped_ would mean he could avoid a repeat of what happened last year...and the year before that.

"So," Asked Apollo from the doorway, "What are you reading? Seems a bit late for studying."

Lanaya shrugged, "He asked me to help him read it. It's the Art of War."

Apollo blinked, "T-the what?"

"Whas this bit say?" asked the demigod, pointing at a line of Chinese script. It was unlike the rest of his books, which had been specially printed in both English and Ancient Greek as an aid to get around the demigod inbred dyslexia.

"_What's,_" corrected the nymph, "enunciate your t's, Armani." She leaned over the page, "It's about how a warrior should be in battle in order to overcome all odds. It reads 'Move swift as the wind, stay silent as the forest, attack as fiercely as fire and let your defence be as undefeatable as a mountain."

Despite himself, Apollo couldn't' help but start singing a song under his breath from Disney's Mulan.

Lanaya stabbed a finger sideways at him, "Silence."

"Umm, you sure you want to read something like that?" asked Apollo a bit nervously, "How about something more festive?"

Armani shook his head, "It's educational."

Apollo sighed, "If you're not being festive, why do you have that Santa hat on again this year? I thought you hated it."

Armani continued staring at the book, "Sun Tzu says, 'To know your Enemy, you must _become_ your Enemy."

The sun god let out a breath, "Why couldn't you have just brought him a Where's Waldo book?"

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the god, "Is there something I can do for you, _my lord_?"

"Oh, you're so cold."

Lanaya went back to her book, "I think you've got enough heat for all of us, thank you."

"_Thank you._" echoed Armani.

Apollo smirked, leaning into her cheek, "Come on, Lannykins, not even so much as a kiss under the mistletoe before I go?"

She shot him a glare out the corner of her eye, "Dream on. Now sod off, sunshine, you're distracting us."

"Sod off sunshine!" echoed Armani almost gaily.

Lanaya flicked him once on the ear, "Oy, Language, young man!"

Armani cupped his ear, muttering, "English, Greek-"

She flicked his other ear, "No sarcasm either, understood?"

He pouted and replied, "_Splendidly,_" enunciating to a taunting degree.

She cocked her head, "Spiffing, now do you want to keep reading or do something else?"

"Movie," he said happily, pointing at the screen across the room.

"Ah, yes, I see one is starting. What's on?"

He smirked, "Home Alone. It's… _educational._"

Apollo took a hesitant step back as the Christmas classic began to play. Shaking his head, the sun god turned and left, trusting in the nymph to keep the boy out of trouble.

The movie finished, and the closing titles had played.

"So," sighed the nymph, "Are you off to bed or are you going to just sit there all night?"

"No, I'll stand now."

"Thank you." she said curtly, lifting the child up and setting him on his feet. "Go on, then. Off to bed with you."

Armani was strangely silent for a moment, "No. No, not yet."

She rested her hands on her hips, "And why not?"

He continued staring at the wall in thought, "Because he'll be coming again."

She frowned, "Who will?"

He scowled and, after a moment, replied "_Santa_." in almost a snarl.

She blinked in surprise and, with a patient smile sighed, "_Armani..._Santa-"

"At least the thing that comes every year and _looks_ like Santa." Interrupted the demigod.

That gave the teacher pause, "Explain."

And so he did. He told her of the powerful man who appeared every Christmas, who invaded his home wherever that may be, and challenges him.

"So let me see if I have this straight... An old man appears to you _every _Christmas and picks a fight with you? An old man with extreme strength, superhuman speed, mystical powers and he claims to be… Santa Claus?"

Armani nodded, "Yup."

Lanaya seemed at a loss for words. She knew Armani wasn't one for fantasising, nor did he ever seem to lie, most likely because when he was forced to he was terrible at it. Being a creature who lived by logic, she surmised he at least _believed_ what he were saying was true. So that meant one of two things: 1. He was mistaken as to what was actually going on (i.e. he simply dreamed up both occurrences or the like) or 2: He was correct.

She of course believed the former far more than the latter. Sighing, she spoke, "_Alright then_, so when does this 'Santa' normally show up?"

"Before midnight, I think..."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course he does. And what is it you intend to do once 'Santa' gets here?"

"I'll catch him and make him submit. He ran away the first time and beat me last year. I'm stronger now. This year will be different."

She sighed again, removing her glasses to massage her temples, "Did you ever consider just letting him leave. Maybe if you ignored him he'd just come and go; no problem."

He shook his head, "No..." he said, almost petulantly.

Again, she rolled her eyes, "And why is that?"

He turned to face her, "Because, Miss Lanaya, he _tasks me, _he tasks me and I shall have him!"

She cocked an eyebrow, "Did you just quote- Never mind. Fine, we'll stay up until 'Santa' gets here."

He nodded, "Good. Now I must prepare."

She waved her hand in exasperation and he set off on his task.

**11:20pm**

Lanaya's eyes followed Armani as he moved about the small building, just making sure he wasn't doing anything to actually injure himself.

"Do you genuinely think all this is necessary?" She asked as he paused by the fireplace and set something down.

"You'll see..." was all he replied before jumping up and grabbing her hand in his own, "Come on..." he said, tugging.

She frowned as she let herself be pulled to her feet and along to the bedroom, "What in Hades are you doing, Armani?"

"You should hide. He'll be here any time now." he said urgently and ushered her into his room.

"Now, _really, _this really is-" she was cut off as he abruptly closed his door on her.

"Shh, just stay in there and be quiet."

Lanaya scowled at the wooden door and, shaking her head walked over and sat on the edge of the bed with her arms folded, "This is ridiculous..."

Any further thoughts were cut short as a loud shriek pierced through the air of the small building a moment later.

She was on her feet in a flash and heading back into the main living area.

"Oh, you _little..._" Yelped 'Santa' as he frantically fought to undo the bear trap he had stepped in at the bottom of the chimney. If it had been made of celestial bronze or the like, it may have caused some damage, but it didn't mean that it still didn't _smart_.

He'd destroyed the smoke grenades before they could go off, and he was prepared for the two spring loaded crossbows the boy had somehow managed to set up across the room.

He kicked off the trap and it burst into flames, melting into a puddle of molten metal at the base of the chimney.

He jumped to his feet, eyes sweeping the room, "Where are you, you little brat? Santa's not going to go easy on you this year around!"

'Santa' knew he was in the building; he could sense that, but _where_?

This wasn't like last time, this wasn't a frontal assault. He was lying in wait somewhere.

He edged forward, using caution. If the boy wanted to play hard ball this year then that was fine with him.

There were no paint cans or bowling balls in the property, so he didn't have to worry about those sorts of childish traps, all he had to worry about were the countless deadly weapons he kept stored.

In retrospect he should probably consider making the place a tad more child friendly.

He paused in the middle of the room, "I'm _waiting_... Well?" He asked, pausing to dutifully slip a present under the tree.

He frowned as the pine needles rustled, a second later Armani Dove leapt from his hiding place among the branches and into 'Santa's' chest.

He pushed straight over his head, dragging the net in his hands with him and entwining it behind 'Santa's back, "Oh, you _little-_" cursed 'Santa' as he was dragged backwards and down onto the floor, shaking about in his confinement.

Armani pushed himself up, "Hah! Got you this time!"

"You little Gremlin, just wait until I-"

"You're not getting out of those ropes. I was careful, so I used my uncle's special ones, they're made using-"

"Celestial Bronze" cut in 'Santa' before cursing again under his breath, "Not bad..."

"So you admit I won."

'Santa' cocked an eyebrow up, "You're getting far too overconfident, Armani. Sun Tzu would not be happy."

Armani's eyes widened at his words and a second later 'Santa' pulled a bronze dagger from his sleeve and, with a swish of movement, sliced himself free.

He was on his feet in an instant. Flinging a hand forward, he willed the severed ropes up and they lashed about the boy, tangling around his limbs and binding him tight.

'Santa' raised his palm slowly, the bundle rising into the air as if of its own accord.

He smirked, "He _al__so _said, little Armani, that a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but _excels_ at winning with ease."

Armani shook about in a futile attempt to break free. Slowly 'Santa' began to advance on the demigod.

There was a slight tremor and 'Santa' didn't have time to react as a long root tore through the foundations of the structure, up through the floor and lashed itself around his neck.

'Santa' staggered in shock as another two tore up and took hold of his arms, choking him and pulling him into the air, the entwined demigod falling to the floor.

Lanaya stepped into view at the edge of the room; she folded her arms and regarded the prone man with dark, narrow eyes, "You must either be immensely powerful or _extremely_ stupid. Or perhaps a bit of both, for you to have dared violate this place."

"ACKHH, Lanakkkyha!"

She cocked her eyebrow as she reached down and untangled the demigod and stood up. "Did you say something?"

"Damn it! Ackhh! It's _ME_!" he choked, his eyes flashing a blinding white.

Armani didn't see Lanaya's eyes widen in surprise as she caught on.

'Santa's' eyes widened as a wry smile spread across her face, "Sorry, have we met before?" she enquired politely, the roots tightening as new ones slithered around to encompass him.

"Achh! You _suckhh!"_ Choked out 'Santa'

'Santa' gritted his teeth, and with a growl, his body flashed brightly and the roots around him burst into flames. He dropped to the floor as Lanaya let out a hiss of sympathetic pain, her hand immediately going to Armani and pulling him behind her as Santa stood up, scowling, eyes glowing white.

He briefly spared a glance at the damage that had already been done and then fixed his gaze on Armani, who's confidence had somewhat deflated, "You got lucky, _this time_. I yield this time to the _two of you_. Next time, next time you will not fare so well. Santa swears this on the River Styx!" he shouted in an unnaturally bellowing voice, thunder roaring outside. Armani staggered back a step in fear.

As Santa's body began to glow brilliantly all over, the Nymph quickly cupped a hand over the child's eyes and glanced away herself as 'Santa' reverted to his true form and vanished.

Lanaya flicked her glasses open and put them back on her nose, pondering the room, "You know I do believe we made him angry..."

Armani was quiet for a long, long moment, and then, after readjusting his hat, said in a small meek voice, "I could've won by myself."

She glanced at him and smiled, lifting his hat to ruffle his hair, "Of course you could. Go on, bed, and I mean it this time." she said pointing at the room.

He nodded and turned about, heading away, "Thanks, miss..." he said quickly before closing his door.

She looked on after him for a second before letting out a tired sigh, she gave a start as she turned about to find Apollo sitting on the couch, arms folded and in full-on pout mode.

"Oh, you're back. We had some trouble while you were out." She said in a very bad attempt to sound innocent.

He humphed and looked away, "He had help." he looked back, frowning "I'm not counting that one."

She smiled, "Of course not..."

A silence fell between them as she found her eyes drawing back to that closed door.

A moment passed.

"He deserves more..." she said in a small voice after a while.

"Hey, I've never claimed to be good parenting material."

"That's not what I meant." she murmured.

Apollo was quiet for a moment further, his scowl gone, "...I know."

"How long?"

He glanced up at the door, "He still has a few years yet...ten... if he's lucky."

"It's not fair." she said in a thick whisper.

"No, no it's not. But I'm going to keep going, I'm not going to give up, and I'll keep being who I am, and what he needs me to be, right up until the very end..."

She flicked away a green tear before the god could see it, "I'll leave him to you then." and with that, she headed for the door.

"Thank you for your time." said Apollo cordially as her hand touched the doorknob.

She didn't turn about to let him see her face, merely inclined her head slightly in response, and then was gone, leaving the sun god with his thoughts for the future...

_To be continued..._

[A/N] Okay, ended on a bit of a sombre note, but I can't keep it all kittens and bunnies, metaphorically speaking, but I'll hope to keep up the pace as the christmas period continues, until then.

See you all in Chapter 4: 2003


	4. Chapter 4: 2003

[A/N] And the tale continues, interesting exercise getting so many done in so short a time. Couldn't get one out every day due to family commitments, but I'll endeavour to keep going as quickly as possible. Let's carry on, shall we?

**Broken Bow: The 12 years of Christmas**

**Chapter 4: 2003**

**December 24****th**** 2003 11:35pm. ****T****welve ****Miles**** north-east o****ff**** the US coastline.**

Armani was not in the best of moods. This was not the most surprising of events, though even the young demigod had to admit that this was happening more and more frequently. He had recently started becoming irritable and angry at everything, seemingly at the drop of the hat.

It was all a distraction of course, as he couldn't very well let Apollo or anyone else know what he was truly upset at:

Himself.

And he had no idea why.

He could ignore the sensation most days, but it flared up on occasion, and never quite fully vanished; like a lingering nagging in the back of his head.

The reason he was angry _tonight_ however was different entirely, and it was something he found almost pleasingly justifiable:

Apollo.

The boy was sat cross-legged on the prow of the Yacht Apollo had stuck him on for the evening, scowling.

The sun god hadn't said _wh__y _he'd picked up the demigod (literally, by the scruff of the neck) and dropped him down on the boat. All he _had_ said was that he didn't want his condo ripped apart again this year. He also heard him mutter something about 'no outside help'

Armani took a breath to calm himself, the gentle rocking of the waves was soothing in a way he didn't expect.

His eyes flicked up to the half-moon that hung in the clear skies. A shuddering thrill passed up his body for a second and the rocking of the boat seemed to intensify for just one instant.

Luckily, the boat was Apollo's, so it was stocked with a standard array of weapons: bows, arrows, swords and the like.

He wasn't as proficient with the sword as the bow but he took one just to be on the safe side. It was a little large for the demigod, but it would have to do.

The bow and quiver of arrows would still be his first choice, since he had discovered his proficiency with them earlier in the year, much to his uncle's understandable delight.

Armani's brow twitched as he remembered the incident; one arrow embedded in a target, having speared down through the shaft of the one he had just fired. It was strange, as upset as he had been getting at himself in recent months, despite all that, in that one instant, he felt...proud, if only for a fleeting second.

Then there was the incident in the alleyway, the teenage boy with the knife. Armani had snuck out, as he so often did and went exploring, and found himself in the situation after choosing to cut through a small nearby town.

He had been afraid, pressed back against the wall; he was becoming _prey_.

He knew simply handing over what valuables he had would've ended it, but that concept that...thought of being hounded like some helpless rabbit caused something to snap inside of him.

It was like a voice, calling at the back of his mind, willing him on and opening him up. And so he screamed, and he screamed _loud_, but this was no normal scream; it was the cry of nature, of every kind of beast and creature alive in the wild.

The wild responded.

The older boy was already retreating in terror at the cry the boy emitted, but didn't get very far as every living thing in the surrounding area set upon him: Cats, dogs, rats and, to Armani's detached bewilderment, even a somewhat annoyed Komodo dragon.

Apollo had told him later that the thief did survive with no lasting injuries, though he did spend most of the evening getting his wounds painfully sterilised and getting about a dozen tetanus, antibiotic and anti-viral injections in his backside.

Armani was amused.

Something else had happened though. After the assailant had fled, Armani felt a tingle, followed by a stabbing, searing pain in his shoulder.

It was a pain so debilitating and intense he had blacked out and awoken on his back with Apollo looking over him. Lanaya had been there at the time, and if Armani didn't know better about the stern Nymph, it looked like she had been crying for some reason.

This was not the only occurrence of this though. Twice more in the year this had happened. Once, a pain, worse than the first, had reappeared; this time in his left leg and later in the year on his right arm.

Always the same pain, but always worse each time and the area it covered always getting larger...

And each time Apollo was standing over him when he awoke. He would never explain it though, no matter how much he demanded it. Apollo would just say it was a 'special case' and not to worry and he would take care of it.

Suddenly a voice in the back of his head called out again. More like an echo of thought, louder and clearer than the first time he heard it when it was just willing him in what to do.

_Behind!_

The word was disturbingly clear and Armani found his body leaping to its feet in reaction.

He was here.

'Santa' stood tall in his sleigh, hovering over the pitch black waters, "Not bad, boy." he said in that deep, but somehow cocky and patronising tone, "I thought I had masked my approach completely, even muffled the sleigh bells. Your instincts are getting better."

Armani didn't pause to think, nor did he consider entertaining a conversation. He just acted.

In one move he grabbed the bow laying on the deck and in another he swung about, nocking an arrow and loosed it directly at the man in red.

The aim was good, but 'Santa' was faster.

To Armani's annoyance he vanished in a _poof_ of powdered snow. Armani never considered for one second holding back from lethal force; everything in his mind and body screamed that he'd have to go all out and hold nothing back if he were to even stand a chance.

The demigod's power over beasts was useless out at sea so he had to fall back on the basic skills he had learned in the year since he had last fought the man which, in a way, was how Armani found himself preferring it.

"You know," said 'Santa', Armani turning about to scowl at the man who was lying lazily against the yacht's glass windows, "despite attacking me every year, you never complain about the presents, and never once have you thanked me."

Armani frowned and regarded 'Santa' for a moment, the man's eyebrow cocked up expectantly. The demigod rolled his eyes and said in a reluctant mumble, "_Thank you..."_

'Santa' grinned and Armani noticed how unnaturally white his teeth were, "There you go. And this is for you," he said, and slid a parcel across the deck towards him.

Armani's eyes flicked from the present to the old man and, putting his bow to the side and grabbing his sword, bent down and grabbed it, all the while keeping his eyes locked on 'Santa'.

"You can't open it until tomorrow, though." said 'Santa' sternly as if it were deathly important.

"I know _that_," frowned the boy and, despite everything, he found himself shaking the present once.

"And not at midnight either, you have to wait until morning."

"I _know,"_ said the boy with a scowl.

After setting the gift aside, he watched as 'Santa' braced his palms flat against the glass and Armani knew he was preparing to strike.

He was still ranged though.

Armani dropped his sword and grabbed his bow, loosing another shot straight at the old man.

This time he didn't vanish, nor did he dodge.

He seemed to smirk as the arrow rebounded off his forehead and clattered harmlessly onto the wooden decking.

Armani glanced at the arrow quickly, it's point slightly bent from the impact; like he had shot it at a brick wall.

'Santa's bright blue eyes narrowed slightly, "An arrow made of wood with an iron tip: you really think that could hurt _me_?"

Armani's teeth gritted slightly. The old man was like Apollo; regular steel and iron seemed to have no effect if he knew the attack was coming, only enchanted weapons or specialised metals like celestial bronze would have any effect more than startling him.

That only left his sword, which did have a celestial bronze blade.

Tossing the quiver and bow aside he readied his sword in the stance Apollo had taught him. The hilt was too big for his hands and the weapon was a bit clumsy, but it was the only thing he had capable of doing any damage.

'Santa's' eyebrows rose, "So you'll resort to a weapon you've barely trained with and is much too big for you? The wise option would be to retreat."

Armani glared at him, "I will do no such thing, so this is my best bet. Anyway, how could you possibly know how long I've trained with this?"

'Santa's' chin rose, "I know all and see all."

"You're as dense as Apollo and almost as ugly!"

"HEY!" barked the man almost deafeningly, his voice seeming to resonate both old and young at the same time and Armani could've sworn the winter sea air just got very warm.

'Santa' took several long, calming breathes, "I will have you _kn__ow_, young man, that Apollo is as wise as he is dashing and handsome."

"That's my point." said Armani, cocking his head.

It took 'Santa' a second to catch that it was an insult, "Oh, I will _get_ you for that one."

Armani rose his sword up to block what appeared to be a large candy cane that 'Santa' had attacked him with.

All the same, it didn't get sliced through by his blade and Armani found himself being effortlessly pushed back, "You really should have retreated when you had the chance. This time it will be me forcing _you_ to submit and admit defeat."

"Not...going to...happen." growled the young demigod as he was pushed almost all the way backwards.

'Santa' smirked and, parrying Armani's blade back completely and forcing him to stagger away, the old man spun into a perfect roundhouse kick that struck the demigod in the chest and sent him spinning back against an unforgiving metal bulkhead.

Armani groaned and cradled the side of his face that had hit the surface and looked up to see 'Santa' standing. He watched as the old man twirled the cane once over in his hand like he were flourishing a sword. He also did it in a way Armani found disturbingly familiar.

He smiled, "So, are you going to give up?"

"Ith snot over yet!" growled the boy.

'Santa' opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned, "_Come again_?"

"I _thaid_ ith snot over yet!"

"_What?"_

The boy was about to respond and then his cheeks seemed to flush, and then grudgingly tapped the side of his face he was cradling, "...I bi' my thoung."

"You, you bi' your _what_?"

Armani rolled his eyes, "I _bi' _my _thoung!"_ he growled.

'Santa' blinked, and then his cheeks twitched as he found himself trying desperately not to laugh.

He failed.

Armani glowered at the old man, "Oy! Ith not thodding funny!"

'Santa's hearty laugh turned up several octaves.

"Thath it… _mad now_." The demigod said, and charged the still laughing man.

'Santa' barely even had to react as his arm flicked out and batted the demigod out of the air and sent him spinning back to the floor.

'Santa's' laugh faded into a sigh, "Very well then, I suppose it's time we put an end to this."

Armani pushed himself to his feet, staggering back up to the rear support rail.

When he looked up at his opponent, he froze.

'Santa' had a bow.

A golden bow.

A golden bow that had been covered in spray-snow and decorated with holly and little bells.

Despite appearances, the frosty gold arrow nocked and aimed right at him looked lethal enough.

Armani didn't move, "You would've done well, had you actually had a weapon you could use against me."

The worst thing, Armani realised, was that he was right.

If he had had just a pair of celestial bronze tipped arrows then he might have stood a chance, instead all he had were the regular ones used for target shooting, and a sword too big for him to use.

If he didn't know any better he could've sworn Apollo had actively went out of the way to sabotage his efforts.

"You're beaten." said 'Santa' in a level tone, "Now do the wise thing and submit. Would you really want to die such a foolish death?"

The boy's cheeks flushed with shame.

There had to be a way though. Surrender was always an option but Apollo said there was _always_ a way if you knew where to look.

Armani wasn't ready to give up. Everything screamed that there was one option open, but he couldn't figure it out.

But how?

He was backed into a corner and perfectly ranged.

_Your bow_

Armani's brow twitched and his eyes flicked to the discarded weapon.

_It's too far away, and useless besides that._

Armani scowled as the voice repeated.

_Use YOUR bow._

'Santa', sensing his hesitation shouted, "There's no way out! Learn your lesson! There is nothing you can do."

_Your bow._

The voice kept repeating this, but again it wasn't so much words as it was an _idea_, it was screaming the _concept_ of a bow.

No.

It was screaming the concept of _his_ bow.

_Use your bow...Idiot._

That was it; at that second, Armani's temper snapped. Between voices in his head and getting beaten, _again_, by the infuriating man in red, he had reached the end of his tether.

Again 'Santa' repeated slowly, "No way to win," but Armani wasn't listening to _him_.

Gritting his teeth he roared, "I don't have a damned_ bow!"_

'Santa' did a double take and Armani felt it then as if his rage had pushed him to a place without thought, he felt an odd tugging sensation in his abdomen.

_Call your bow._

And so... he did.

Armani opened his eyes, and concept had become form; thought had become physical.

Through his surprise at the silver bow in his hand and the already drawn silver arrow, he found the dumbfounded sight of 'Santa' with his jaw hanging open, most satisfying.

"Impossible..." mouthed the man, "It can't be..."

Armani found himself smiling, "Really? Then I suppose this won't hurt at all then."

'Santa' barely had a nanosecond longer to get over his shock as the silver bolt shot through the air towards him. He leaned back out of the way with lightning speed just as the head skimmed his cheek.

He staggered back, cursing as a small stream of golden blood seeped from the wound.

He looked back at the boy, who already had another arrow aimed at him, "You know what a hunter would say at a moment like this?" he asked.

'Santa' glanced at the blood on his hand, flicking it away before turning back to the boy, "And what is that?" he asked, retaking his aim with his own bow.

Armani cocked his head, "If it bleeds..." and he fired.

'Santa' was ready this time though. Armani found himself awed slightly as the man shot his arrow effortlessly out of the air.

Then the old man was moving, and moving _fast_.

He dodged left and right at speeds that were not only impossible for someone of his large size, but impossible for a human period, dodging every arrow fired at him.

He ran up the side of the wall and propelled himself into a mid-air twirl, shooting down the two arrows in mid-flight towards him and firing another, skimming the demigod's arm.

Armani hissed and took a step back, his eyes flicking away for an instant, and in that second of distraction, found 'Santa' standing somehow right behind him.

Armani froze.

"Do you know what _I_ say in a moment like this?" he asked, raising a hand even as Armani began to move, "Beware your hubris, Armani." and at that he struck him square on the base of the neck.

The world swam around the demigod, stars spinning and he found himself falling almost in slow motion as everything went black, the image of that cut burned into his eyes.

He had cut him, he had _injured him_.

It was a step forwards.

Next year, _Next year..._

_To be continued__..._

[A/N] Again, sorry I couldnt get this out earlier, and hope you enjoyed, it I'll try and keep the pace going if I can and hope you'll stick with me through this little bit of fun. Hope you're all having a happy holidays! Catch you next time.

See you in Chapter 5: 2004


	5. Chapter 5: 2004

[A/N] Okay, back again, would've been out yesterday had my netbook not turned fail on me again, so sorry about that. I hope the holidays are treating you all well. And so, let's dive right in...

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 5: 2004**

**December 24th 2004, 11:20pm. The New York Plaza Hotel, Penthouse Suite.**

Lanaya was pacing back and forth across the room impatiently, and if Armani was irritated with her constantly crossing his view of the wall mounted TV, then he didn't show it. In fact, his attention was more focused on her than anything else. It was rare to see her so restless about something.

She paused eventually, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"Don't like this..." she muttered.

Armani observed her impassively. He could understand _why_ she was upset: Apollo had, after all set them both up in this room for the night, and it wasn't exactly a comfortable place for her. The hotel may have been near to Central Park, but being in the top floor suite left her seriously disjointed from any of her sources of power.

Armani had other concerns though. His gaze flicked to the clock.

_Almost time..._

He wasn't particularly upset by their location himself; the room was large and spacious, with two floors and plenty of room for manoeuvring, and it wasn't like he would be fitting the bill for any damages; that's what Apollo was for.

"There's no need for you to stay up," said Armani, breaking his silence, "You can go rest if you'd prefer."

Her eyes flicked to him, "I'm keeping an eye on you, sapling. I may not have any power here, but it's still my job to keep you out of trouble. And don't think I don't know what you're waiting for."

Armani sighed, she only called him by that name when she knew he was up to something she would consider _puerile._

Apollo had been keeping her with him more and more lately, even when the god himself was around (much to her irritation). Armani didn't mind though, as when she were around, that odd feeling of being upset with himself seemed to abate slightly, the same way it did when he was out running through the forest; not hunting, just _running,_ he enjoyed doing that; going faster and faster until his legs burned and he fought for breath and the world were an intangible blur, like he were coursing through the veins of the forest itself. This often led to problems, as he would more often than not end up miles beyond where he had intended to be once exhaustion had fully kicked in. Luckily, Lanaya would often simply pop up and drag him back, scold him for a while, and then put him to bed, otherwise...well...that's what buses were for.

His eyes drifted back to the nymph again. There was something else about her too, something he had only just begun to notice due to their extended periods of time together.

She was often sad about something.

She hid it well, but just occasionally, when she thought he weren't looking, he would catch her out the corner of his eye wearing an oddly forlorn expression.

"Perhaps..." she began, stopping at the foot of the wide staircase, "Perhaps you really _should_ just go to bed." she finished in a tired voice.

Armani looked at her, trying to read her emotions, but it seemed whenever she was torn about something she would intentionally not make eye contact, as if she knew he had a knack for identifying what people were feeling that way.

And for the first time, as he heard the sad undertone in her voice, Armani was tempted for and instant to actually turn in, and just give his annual appointment a miss if only just this once.

That was when he sighted him.

"Sorry, Miss... too late."

She looked back at him and followed his gaze past her, and then she saw also.

Standing atop the staircase, looking down at the demigod, was the man in red.

"Merry Christmas, little boy," said the man in his usual jolly tone.

Armani's eyes narrowed, "Santa..." he said, inclining his head curtly.

"So, have you been naughty or nice this year?" he asked, slowly starting to walk back and forth on the top step.

Armani smiled slightly, "I did my best."

'Santa' took a single step down the stairs. Armani slid smoothly to his feet, a silver glow starting to emanate from his right hand.

"Stop!" Lanaya suddenly said, extending a hand at the demigod as she looked between them, "Just... wait a moment, don't use it."

Armani froze, the glow around his palm seeming to hesitate, like a swirling silver mist around his fingers.

'Santa' frowned at the nymph as she turned to glare at him.

She spared a glance at the demigod and turned to walk up the stairs, approaching the old man until she was on the stair below him.

"You can't do this!" she hissed at the man in a tone so inaudible, a regular human wouldn't have heard even at that distance. She had to of course; anything louder and the still demigod would've easily picked it up.

"You're presuming to tell me what to do?" murmured back the old man, his voice changed.

She looked desperately back at the boy and then back again, "You _know_ what happens every time he uses his powers! Every fight takes what days he has away. Not doing this could save him weeks if not months!"

'Santa' turned his gaze back at the boy, "It's his decision. He's a demigod, though he most likely won't have the time to quest and adventure like he should, he doesn't deserve to be slowly smouldering into ash when he can blaze. There is a big difference between survival and living. Despite what you think however...I do know moderation."

"But-" she whispered desperately, glancing back as the boy scowled impatiently, "...you don't understand... I can _feel it_... I can _feel_ him dying, every single day, a bit more at a time."

'Santa's eyes softened for a second as he regarded the child, he let out a warm breath, "It's his choice..."

She looked at him and back again. Then slowly, she turned about and headed silently back down the stairs, the look in her eyes going from desperate and sinking into almost lifeless resignation, "...Do what you will."

Armani's eyes widened. He had never seen that look on her face before as she walked to the side of the room and sank down into a chair, watching the floor.

Armani looked at his hand, and then back up at the old man. He then turned and looked at his teacher for a long moment, remembering each and every reprimand she had given him when he used his power, especially his bow.

The boy let out a tired sigh and smiled, closing his fist as the silver light vanished.

He turned to face 'Santa' who was stood still, waiting...

He looked up at the old man, "Santa Claus?"

The old man blinked in surprise, "Y-yes, little boy?"

The boy let out another sigh before speaking, "For Christmas this year, I would like... a sword."

The old man's eyebrows rose and he caught sight of his teacher looking up.

"Oh?" rumbled the old man curiously.

He nodded, "Yes, and a good one. One I can use for tonight. I can't use my bow, there's... not enough room."

'Santa' regarded him for a long moment, as if thinking on it, and then let out a slow, hearty chuckle, "Gutsy as ever, little Armani. You're not as good with the blade as you are with the bow."

"Accepted."

'Santa' nodded and, reaching into his sack, retrieved a small wrapped parcel which vanished, reappearing under the tree nearby, "That's your regular present for this year," explained the old man.

Armani nodded, "Thank you, Santa." he said curtly, remembering last year.

'Santa' smiled and reached into his bag again, retrieving a large candy cane. He twirled it once and it morphed into a simple small bronze sword. With a flick of his wrist he tossed it toward the boy, embedding the blade in the carpet in front of him.

Armani picked up the weapon. It was light and small enough for him to wield effectively.

'Santa' reached into his sack and produced, instead of a cane like last year, a long golden blade which, Armani observed, seemed to have been sprayed with snow and decorated like the man's bow had been the previous year.

Armani readied himself, twirling the sword once over in his hand; an unconscious imitation of the flourish Apollo did. In Armani's case however, this action was more of a nervous tick on his part.

'Santa' strode slowly down the steps and both circled one another, stopping a few metres apart, "I suppose it's that time again... Let's see the results of how good you've become this year."

Armani nodded and granted the request. He lunged forwards, swinging his sword overhead at the man. In a flash his blade was up to block.

The boy turned about swinging at his opponent's midsection. Again the blades clashed as Armani began slashing and swinging at the older man, who didn't respond, but let the boy attempt to break his guard.

Armani twirled about into a backhanded strike.

'Santa', who hadn't been expecting the boy to improvise the move, barely had time to block.

Despite the shock, 'Santa' couldn't help but smile; the boy had imagination, he'd hand him that.

Armani continued, attacking and reversing his strikes at random. His movements were clumsy and unpolished due to his age and inexperience, but he was nimble and fast.

This carried on for quite some time as the boy repeatedly tried to land a strike on his opponent, who parried and blocked with inhuman grace, Lanaya watching every move without comment.

'Santa' would on occasion counter attack, pushing the boy back several feet each time, and had nicked him a couple of times with his sword.

As they continued fighting in a circle for some time, 'Santa' made an error:

He wasn't keeping his eye on everyone in the room.

So when he passed close to the nymph and found himself staggering back over her _conveniently_ extended foot, the cry that came from his mouth at that second was both of surprise at what happened, frustration that he should've seen it coming, and pain from the lucky slash the demigod got in across his arm when he flailed backwards.

'Santa' looked at the nymph who was calmly reading one of her books and, as if only just realising he was looking at her, glanced up and with a mask of innocence said, "What?"

'Santa' shook his head, then gritted his teeth as the boy's blade clashed with his own.

"I call foul, "said the old man as his opponent continued to attack.

Armani smiled, "Why? You were the one who wasn't watching where he was going."

'Santa' glared at the boy, and then decided it was time to see what the boy could really do.

And that was when the old man decided to start fighting seriously.

Armani yelped as the old man went on the offensive, his large blade being barely blocked by the young half-blood.

There was a crash as 'Santa's' weapon sliced through a very expensive looking coffee table, the boy dodging the blow just in time.

He leaped to the side again, just as 'Santa' bisected the plasma TV off the wall.

This went on for a while and, about fifteen minutes and a quarter of a million dollars' worth of damage later, a loud chime resonated through the room from the grandfather's clock leaning askew against the wall.

**December 25th, 12:00am.**

'Santa' paused at the sound, and looked around him.

The room was pretty much devastated, the demigod hadn't been so much using his sword to block as he had used his speed to keep out of the rampaging man's way, and by now the boy was leaning against the banister rail for support and seemed to be fighting just to stay on his feet whilst trying to catch his breath.

'Santa' lowered his sword and, as if just realising how much damage had been done, seemed to swallow, "Ah... _Sorry_, it would seem Santa got a little excited. Either way, times up."

Armani spoke between breathes, "You're not going anywhere… I can still...fight."

'Santa' smirked, "I'm afraid I have to go. Santa can't be out on Christmas day, surely you know that." He lowered his head slightly to regard the boy, "You did quite well this year, I never thought you'd evade me this long, so I'll tell you what; we'll call it a draw, just this once."

He vanished just as a loud hammering sound started coming from the doors to the suite.

Lanaya stood up from her chair, which was about the only undamaged item in the whole room. She calmly dusted herself down and slid her book into her jacket pocket along with the present, "It would appear the staff has come to investigate the noise. I believe it best we make tracks."

Armani didn't have the energy to argue as he staggered after her, the sword in his hand shifting back to its former appearance then cracking into a pile of red and white sugar.

Lanaya crouched down and lifted the boy up onto her back, "Come on, you," she said as they slipped out the side door and moments later were in the elevator.

She strode calmly across the empty lobby, "Think we'd best get you..." she paused as she heard a low rumbling coming from behind her and glanced over to find the demigod had fallen asleep right there on her back.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she sighed, "Merry Christmas, sapling..."

And so she left with the boy in tow, allowing him to sleep and dream of Christmases to come...

_To be continued..._

[A/N] yup and things develop, slowly, as they draw towards their inevitable conclusion. That's all for this chapter, so I'll see you all again.

Catch you in Chapter 6: 2005


	6. Chapter 6: 2005

[A/N] Back again, thanks as always for your kind words. It's been great fun doing this so far, probably should finish my christmas shopping at some point too, ah gotta love the holidays. Let's dive right back in.

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 6: 2005**

**December 25th 2005 12:03am**

Things were not going to plan. Though, if 'Santa' were to be entirely honest with himself; things had not been going entirely to plan since the half-blood had woken up in the night five years ago, but never did he think things would spiral _this_ far out of control.

"You are being very naughty this year, little boy!" objected 'Santa', the wind buffeting him as he dodged another arrow.

That's one unfortunate thing about the sleigh; it wasn't very aerodynamic; 'Santa' sure as heck wasn't used to using it for high speed manoeuvres. He just prayed his sister didn't catch wind of this, she'd never let him live it down.

'Santa' cursed as an arrow streaked past his head, impaling his hat on the other side of the sleigh.

He let go of the reigns and swung about, calling his bow and firing a flaming arrow into the night, but his target had already vanished.

That's the thing about griffins; they're classed as being the 'guardians of the divine' blessed with immense strength and speed, capable of pursuing and catching anyone who violated the sanctums they had been tasked with guarding, and what did 'Santa' do when he found himself in possession of one of their eggs?

He gave it as a birthday present to the son of the goddess of the Hunt.

With a little more foresight, perhaps maybe on the level he reserved for his _duties,_ he would've seen this coming.

A recent growth spurt in Tim the griffin earlier this year had took her onto her adult stage of growth, which meant one important thing: she was now large enough to ride in flight.

'Santa' hissed as another arrow streaked out from the blizzard, "Why couldn't have I just gotten him a _goldfish_?"

Things had been going fine; 'Santa' had dropped into the condo to drop off his gift as normal this year, entirely expecting the half-blood to be waiting for their annual scrap, but the condo was silent.

'Santa' hadn't bothered trying Armani's room to see if he were actually there, preferring to just thank the fates that he'd gotten the year off.

This had all changed when he had gotten back into his sleigh and taken flight and a bronze arrow had shot out from the clouds above and lacerated his right hand. A moment later the griffin had burst free of her cloud cover, the demigod crouched on her back, a quiver of arrows on his back and bow in hand.

_Not using your own powers tonight, are we?_ Realised the old man, which meant he only had to keep ahead of the boy until his supply of arrows ran out.

His 'sleigh' was fast; he had dematerialised and reappeared several miles away, only for the griffin to erupt from the clouds below. It seemed to move after its prey in the sky like Artemis and her Hunters moved in the forest.

If it were daytime, or even dawn, he could have simply returned instantly to Olympus, but the dead of night severely limited his 'sleigh's' powers, and so he was left with little other recourse than to try and lose him in direct pursuit.

He cut free into a gap between some clouds and came to a standstill, eyes flicking about into the mist that surrounded him.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice changing back to its usual younger state for a moment, "where are you?"

His eyes traced the clouds, arrow drawn, waiting for a slight disturbance in the air. He also had to be careful he didn't score a lethal shot on the boy or his griffin.

Luckily for Armani, 'Santa' happened to be a half-decent shot.

_He's stalking me, waiting for the right moment to strike._

A smile pulled at his lips; he really was his mother's son.

His blue eyes flicked about, constantly adjusting the aim of his bow as he swept the clouds that encircled him, the air cold and silent.

"Heart of the storm..." he muttered to himself.

His hearing alone was perfect for this situation; unless the boy could somehow fire off an arrow at twice the speed of sound - a feat way beyond someone of his strength - then he could simply shoot anything out of the air.

Everything seemed to move into slow motion as the tell-tale high pitched twang of a bowstring reached his ears, followed by the split in the clouds as an arrow twirled through the air towards him.

He leaned back, the arrow passing harmlessly by.

"You can't win this way!" shouted the man, his voice being enhanced so the boy would hear outside of that quiet spot.

He let his bow vanish after a moment once no further attacks came.

_Out of arrows? _Wondered the man in red.

He turned about, looking into the thick grey clouds.

_Will you resort to using your own bow and arrows?_

'Santa' smirked, no, that would be too simple. Knowing Armani, he'd probably resort to something else; something unexpected.

A bank of clouds parted with a whoosh of air as Armani erupted from cover above, going into free-fall and drawing his blade mid-air.

In a flash, 'Santa' had his own blade ready and leaned back to block the above head strike.

_Jumped off... insane, but why would-_

The old man's thoughts were cut short when, with a crash, the boy's griffin crashed into the side of his sleigh.

'Santa' reared back, gritting his teeth as the griffin dug her claws into the wood and snapped at the man.

Armani's blow found little resistance in his opponent's guard, the sword managing to leave a nasty cut on 'Santa's lower arm and the side of his chest.

'Santa's' blue eyes flashed blindingly with anger as he reared back and kicked the griffin free of his sleigh, taking a chunk of the side away in the process and sending the beast flailing away in momentary panic. Carrying on, he swung his foot around and slammed it down into the spot Armani had landed, missing by an inch as the demigod pushed himself up and jumped back, squatting down on the back of the sleigh defensively.

'Santa' glared at the injury on his arm and side, turning his gaze on the demigod, "Not bad." he almost snarled, his voice back in its younger state. Armani's brow twitched at the sound, eyes going to the golden blood on the floor as the old man continued, "but foolish to leave yourself without an escape route!" he snapped, summoning his bow and taking aim, loosing an arrow at the boy's shoulder.

Armani fell backwards off the rear of the sleigh to dodge, 'Santa' took a step forwards in surprise, but Tim had already regained her composure and plucked him out the air. The old man watched as she flicked the boy up out of her talon and onto her back again.

As the griffin banked upwards, the child leapt into a crouch, summoning his bow and levelling an arrow at his enemy.

The demigod pushed himself right to his feet to correct his aim as 'Santa' recalled his own bow and, as their aims and eyes met, suddenly the boy's legs buckled under him slightly.

The child's eyes widened in fear, a small gasp escaping from 'Santa's' mouth as the same exact thought passed through both their heads at the same time:

_Oh, gods... not now!_

The first wave of pain shot through the small demigod's body, a bright flash of silver light coming from his left side. He lost grip on his bow and then balance on his mount.

Tim let out a screech of panic as the boy went into free-fall.

'Santa' was already hot on his tail though. Speeding down after him, he grabbed hold of the boy's other arm, pulling his sleigh to a halt and dragging the thrashing boy inside.

He instantly pressed his hand onto his forehead and pushed him into unconsciousness. Tim landed with a crash on the edge of the sleigh, shrieking with fear and anger.

The man shot her a glare, "If you want to help just stay back and be quiet!"

She did a take and then whimpered slightly in compliance, crouched into a sitting position and rested her head down by the demigod.

"Stay away." said the old man as he drew off a glove, his wrinkled hand becoming youthful and smooth; it also began to glow with golden light.

The griffin let out a cry of shock and had to look away as the old man went to work attempting to repair the boy as best he could.

A moment later he stood to his feet and replaced his glove. He shook his head, "getting harder each time..."

Tim cawed sadly and leaned in to sniff the boy, 'Santa' reaching up to scratch her mane, "Don't worry, girl, he'll be fine."

The old man's eyes widened in fear as he sensed something else on the edge of his consciousness approaching quickly and, again, found himself thinking:

_Not now!_

He looked about himself in a panic, eyes settling on his enchanted bag.

He inclined his head at the griffin, "Sorry about this, girl."

Tim let out a questioning squawk just as she was engulfed in the sack, which had mystically enlarged itself to encompass her large mass.

He patted down on the side as she thrashed about violently inside, "Be _quiet! _Sweet Hades, can you pipe down for just a moment!" he hissed. The sack went still, the griffin letting out a sad caw before going quiet.

'Santa' picked up the boy. Glancing about desperately, he lifted up the lid of his seat and tucked him inside. He sat down and calmly folded his hands in his lap, a new hat reappearing on his head as the damage to the sleigh fixed itself.

His blue eyes surveyed the clouds around him and, just as he was starting to think that perhaps his senses were playing tricks on him, he heard the sound of someone snapping their fingers just once.

Abruptly, the clouds for a mile surrounding him seemed to explode in a burst of air pressure, clearing the entire sky about the sleigh and revealing another similar sight hovering nearby, glowing gently in the silver moonlight.

Artemis stood in her chariot, regarding 'Santa' with a blank expression.

'Santa' coughed once nervously, plastered his best 'jolly' smile on his face, and said, "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, little girl!"

Artemis didn't respond, though one of her eyebrows did raise up slightly.

'Santa' shuffled, "And what can Santa do for you?"

"..." Artemis remained silent, her brow creasing slowly into a frown, fingers drumming slowly on the edge of her chariot.

"...And... What would you like for Christmas this year?"

Finally, she sighed, "Brother... _what_ are you doing?"

'Santa' laughed, "Why, what ever could you be talking about? I'm not your devilishly handsome brother, I'm Santa _Claus_."

Artemis scowled, "I'm going to count to ten…"

'Santa' rolled his eyes, his voice immediately changing back to that of a young man, "Oh, come on, sis. You know I hate it when you do that."

Artemis inclined her head, "Very well, then I-" she paused and shook her head, "For Zeus' sake, change back to your regular gormless self."

"B-but I-"

Artemis cut him off, "I refuse to talk to you in that ridiculous guise. Change now."

'Santa' let out a defeated sigh, his body shifting into a much more slender form, clothes shaping into a simple pair of jeans and tee-shirt with a long leather coat, the old face changing to that of a blonde haired young man. Apollo inclined his head, "There, _satisfied_?"

"With you, never, but it's an improvement."

Apollo sighed again, "What is it you want, Sister?"

"Like I was saying, brother; what are you doing?"

He blinked, "I- I'm afraid I don't understand."

Artemis frowned, "I permit you imitate the image of my chariot for the sake of you carrying out this ridiculous annual show of sentimentality to your children, and yet here you are, well after midnight, when the balance of the night is already shifting away from me and back to you, still using my chariot's image."

"_That's_ why you came out here? Fine, since it bothers you so..." he tapped the edge of his sleigh and it immediately morphed, shifting forms, the reindeer vanishing as the wooden form shaped into a red convertible with Apollo standing on the front seat, the large sack resting on the back.

Apollo's eyes flicked nervously to the boy laying on the floor on the passenger side and back to his sister, "Better?"

Artemis nodded.

Apollo narrowed his eyes at her, "Now was that all? It seems a bit weird for you to come out of your way just to remind me that it's after twelve."

Artemis regarded him for a moment, "No, it's not, as my question still stands; what are you doing?" her tone was genuinely questioning and Apollo could see she was somewhat confused about something.

Apollo plastered his best nonchalant look and shrugged, "Just what I do every year; I get some presents, dress up and drop 'em off at my kids' houses. I was just heading back."

Artemis narrowed her eyes in thought as she spoke, "I sensed it... I sensed you unleash a large amount of your power for some reason. What were you up to?"

Apollo narrowed his eyes back. Normally she wouldn't be able to sense or monitor him under regular circumstances. His eyes flicked for a second back to the demigod, "Nothing that you need concern yourself about." he said, worrying for an instant that she had sensed the boy.

She looked at her brother critically, her hand drifting to her lower chest unconsciously, and said in a somewhat faraway tone, "...you're hiding something from me. I don't know what, I don't know how I know, but I _know_you're hiding something."

Apollo just smirked, "Sis, I'm _always_ hiding something from you. Would you really like to know each and every naughty little thing I get up to?"

Artemis frowned, "Hardly"

The sun god's smirk widened, "Are you sure? I mean it's not like we get to talk often and, _oh_ I could regale you with a tale or two..."

Artemis shot him a dark look, "If you'll excuse me, brother..."

"Oh, going so soon? Can't you at least wait to hear about this cute little water naiad I met last week!"

She turned away and prepared to leave when Apollo suddenly spoke up, "Wait, sis…"

Artemis hesitated and glanced sideways at him, "What is it?"

Apollo seemed to pause, as if thinking how to phrase it, "If there were something I could give you for Christmas, hypothetically that is, what would you want?"

Artemis was quiet for a moment, and then replied in a solemn tone, "If there were something I secretly yearned for…It's not something you could ever give me." And without another word, the goddess vanished, leaving the sun god alone in the skies.

Apollo sank down into his seat.

His eyes drifted to the demigod sleeping on the floor and, in that instant, for the first time since he had found the boy as an infant, he felt his resolve to prevent his sister from knowing his secret waver.

He pushed the sentiment aside. He could tell that a day would come when she would discover the truth, and he would face the consequences that day would bring, but that day was not today...

_to be continued..._

[A/N] again, one I tried to get out yesterday. Honestly, it seems technology is plotting to stop me getting this story out in time, but regardless, that's that for another day and hoped you enjoyed it. Starting next chapter, things will be changing, for the first time the next one will not be the year after this chapter and in fact we'll be skipping ahead. So I'll see you all next time.

Catch you in Chapter 7: 2010


	7. Chapter 7: 2010

[A/N]And here we are again. I hope the festive season is treating you all well and we're all having some fun. Wow, I'm doing these notes so often now they're practically becoming my blog… So to prevent myself telling you what happened whilst Christmas shopping or what kind of sandwich I just ate, I think I'll just dive right in.

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 7: 2010**

**December 24****th**** 2010 11:35pm**

'Santa' thought he would have been happy with the current situation, he _should _be happy.

It looked like there would be no trouble this year, no commotion…

He stood in the dark silence of the condo's living room; the only light was a dim red glow from the dying coals in the fireplace. He was standing almost sentinel, observing the demigod laying on the couch; his breath nothing more than wheezing gasps, a cold sweat still clinging to his forehead.

He had suffered an attack again, a particularly nasty one at that. Things had been getting progressively worse over the past few years; there were times when the imperfection in him wouldn't have any effect for weeks, but over the past year the gaps had been closing. If he was lucky he would get a weeks respite before succumbing once more, and for one to have happened on Christmas Eve of all days…

He had rushed through his rounds tonight, not that there was much of a chance of reoccurrence, but he felt it wrong to leave the child alone on this night especially, it _was_ Christmas after all.

No, that wasn't entirely accurate.

It was his _last_ Christmas.

'Santa' could tell; at best the half-blood might make it to his next birthday, but he would be gone by the time the first leaf fell to the ground.

Apollo would be with him as much as possible during the remaining time; it wasn't like he had anyone else. Even Lanaya had left, though this hadn't been of her own choice. In fact she had been so vocal and heartfelt with her objections about leaving the demigod that the god was almost tempted to let her remain, but he couldn't. She was a tree spirit, and he was the son of the goddess of forests, and his life force; his very essence, was decaying at an increasing rate. Originally she could only just feel it, but it was getting to the point where it was having a detrimental effect to her essence and mental wellbeing. For her sake, and for the boy's if he ever found out he was the cause of her pain, she had to leave.

With that in mind, she had reluctantly agreed, and had put on a convincing enough show, slowly building up the tension between her and the god for a couple of weeks before letting it reach breaking point and her vowing not to show her face around Apollo again.

Armani, despite his efforts to hide his emotions, had been particularly upset buy her departure, and had vented during their regular training sessions. His rage during those times had been so intense, Apollo found himself believing the demigod would have dismembered him if he could have. The fact that Lanaya kept in touch and continued to teach him via iris messaging (which was all charged to Apollo of course) did little to abate his depression over the issue and Apollo could tell that the boy had started to blame himself as well as the sun god for driving her away which, whilst technically it was true that it was his condition that forced her to leave, it wasn't really his _fault_. And so Apollo did the best he could to make the demigod blame him more than he blamed himself. He was, unsurprisingly, very skilled at this.

'Santa' watched the boy a moment longer and decided it was highly unlikely he would stir for the rest of the night.

_So this is how it ends, as most things do: not with a bang… but with a sigh._ He reached silently down and flicked a bang out of the boy's face, which in turn ended up brushing against the demigod's earlobe.

'Santa' flicked his head back just as the demigod attempted to unconsciously knock out three of his teeth.

He smiled as the boy immediately curled up and went still again.

"Merry Christmas, kid," He mumbled, reaching down to set a gift by the foot of the sofa "you might not get as much use out of this as I'd hoped, but I'm sure you'll make good use of it."

The jolly look melted as he looked sadly down at him, "I'm so sorry…"

And, as he turned away, he let out a warm sigh, the room heating up slightly.

Behind him, a pair of silver eyes shot open.

Armani watched in a daze as the man in red began to walk slowly away.

The demigod was still for a moment in contemplation. He knew inside there was something seriously wrong with him and, despite Apollo's continued reassurances that it was just a 'thing' and not to worry, the half-blood knew, at his core, that his time was running short.

He was walking away, and the boy could barely move. He was walking away, and he knew this would be the last chance he got, and still he was just walking away.

To Armani, the man in red was more than just the god in Santa's guise who came every year to deliver presents and end up rumbling with him, he was a symbol; every year he would try and best him, every year on this night he would put everything he had into trying to win, using every skill and trick he had learned during the year. He was the symbol of how good the demigod had become. And now, on the last night, the last year, when he would get no better, when he was at the peak of all he could ever be, what happened?

_Nothing_. The man just walks away…

And so, that would be the sum-total of the young boy's life in the end:

Nothing.

_No…_

The boy ground his teeth in his mouth. Though he didn't particularly like himself and often thought himself of little to no worth, he would not be _nothing_.

He knew nobody else, had no friends, nobody to remember him except a few nymphs and a sun god. Even if it was just one last vain cry of defiance into the night, the boy would be heard.

His fingertips gripped the sofa as his still shaking muscles refused to respond.

_I will not be __**nothing**__._

Then there was the voice again, a whisper in the back of his mind, barely discernible, and though it sounded reluctant to even do anything, there was an odd conviction in it, willing him on.

_Get up!_

He listened to his instinct, overriding his discomfort and pain, he found himself struggling quietly to his feet and, shakily, found his ground just as the man in red's hand touched the doorknob.

'Santa' let out an involuntary yelp as the flaming poker the demigod had thrown slammed into the doorframe an inch above his fingers.

He swung about to find the demigod on his feet. His silver eyes seemed to glisten darkly in the red glow of the fire.

The boy took a shuddering breath, "…_going somewhere_?"

'Santa' regarded him in silence, an understanding that needed no words passed between them as they locked eyes. He wouldn't question his condition, they would simply continue as they always had, and let the future be just that: the future.

'Santa' smiled in his usual jolly, cocky way. "I am. Do you intend to try and stop me?"

Armani wiped the sweat from his brow, his legs becoming steadier by the second, "I think you should know the answer to that by now."

'Santa' inclined his head, "I suppose I should." He nodded down by the demigod's foot, "I suppose I can make an exception for tonight, so why don't you go ahead and unwrap your gift early."

Armani glanced down by his foot, frowning as his head finished clearing and bent down to pick up what lay there.

It was a sword. It hadn't been wrapped up, all it had was a golden bow tied about the pommel to signify it as a gift.

He picked it up in both hands. It's sheath strap had an interesting design which, as he slit it on, realised it was designed like a belt which, when clipped on and in place, left the sword sideways across his lower back, the pommel in constant reach of his hand every time he moved it back.

He let his hand swing back and, as his palm brushed the pommel, pulled the weapon free in one fluidic move, twirling it once experimentally.

It was perfectly proportioned for him. The weapon was, from pommel to tip, the almost exact same distance as it was from Armani's middle fingertip to elbow. The bronze blade was equally well balanced.

'Santa' observed the boy as he examined the weapon. He had designed it obviously with the child in mind. When it came to melee combat, the boy didn't rely so much on skill as he did instinct, and so any blade wielded by him needed to be less a weapon and more an extension of his own arm; less a blade or knife, and more like a tooth or a claw.

The boy looked at it in silence, and 'Santa' could've sworn the ghost of a smile appeared at the side of his mouth, "Thank you, Santa."

The old man inclined his head, "I'm glad you like it."

Armani's eyes flicked up from the blade to meet 'Santa's'. The old man smirked, "Going to challenge me now?"

Armani inclined his head, "No –well, _yes_, but first don't you think you should do something about that?"

'Santa' frowned, "About what?"

Armani cocked an eyebrow up, "The doorframes on fire."

'Santa' glanced behind himself and he let out a sharp Greek curse as he looked about himself frantically, eventually going so far as to pat out the flames with his hat.

He let out a relieved sigh, and ducked just as Armani's sword stabbed into the wood above his head.

The old man grabbed his sword from his sack and swung it round. Armani leapt up, bracing his feet on the door above the old man he propelled himself backwards, pulling his blade free and putting some distance from his opponent.

'Santa' smiled, "I suppose I should have known better than to turn my back on you."

Armani inclined his head, "Not the soundest tactical move, no."

Armani's eyes flicked about. In the cramped hallway there wasn't much in the way of manoeuvring space, and he knew the old man had the advantage in probably every area. Which was understandable, contemplated Armani almost grimly, the man _was_ a god after all.

As if reading his thoughts, 'Santa' smirked, "Why don't we take this somewhere a little less cramped?" he asked and, as Armani attacked again and pushed the old man back, the golden barrier that surrounded the building flowed inwards and, as it made contact, there was a bright yellow flash and they found themselves standing outside on the dunes overlooking the ocean, blades still grappling.

'Santa' forced the demigod's blade back and the boy staggered a few steps before righting himself and readying his sword once more.

'Santa' flourished his blade and smiled, mirroring his opponent's stance, "Okay then, boy. Let's see just how good you've become…"

And so they fought, their blades clashed as they danced and duelled the night away. The demigod fought the almost hopeless fight, nicks and cuts building up on both sides, the man's red suit having multiple gold stains and the boy's white shirt blotted with his own blood.

As much as the older man pushed, the demigod kept fighting, like there was a voice in his head pushing him to go just one more round and, just as dawn began to approach, the demigod finally collapsed and passed out from fatigue, his blade falling to the ground beside him. And, if the demigod didn't know better, he could've sworn that, as the darkness closed in around him, he heard a warm voice coming from the one standing over his fallen form.

"Your mother would've been proud…"

Apollo sank down onto the sofa, swigging down a glass of chilled nectar as his wounds healed. That had not gone as easily as he had first assumed, of that he was glad, but now the sun had risen, the boy was asleep and their last duel was done. He let out a lamenting breath. And now he had to wait for that inevitable day to come.

He supposed everything would just go as expected from now on…

**December 24****th**** 10:35pm 2011**

This was _not_ what Apollo had expected.

He set Maria's present down by the foot of her bed – an enchanted Viola, just like she wanted – and his eyes went, almost with trepidation, to the remaining gift in his sack and then, with a slight chill, to the full moon that hung in the air…

_To be continued…_

[A/N] And we begin to reach the conclusion of our Christmas tale, would seem this wasn't going to take as many chapters as I had first assumed, though I will probably end up splitting the last part up into more than one chapter. So I'll catch you all again for the next instalment.

See you in chapter 8: 2011 (Part 1)

And a merry Christmas to you all!


	8. Chapter 8: 2011 Part 1

[A/N] And here we are again, I suppose I should start by hoping you all had a merry Christmas, and enjoyed your time with your families and also that you all got what you wanted from Santa. Since I'm still festive, I guess we should continue our tale…

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 8: 2011 (Part 1)**

Aren McNamara was doing her best to enjoy the festive season, really she was. If anything the Hunter always enjoyed celebrating. But something was nagging at her. It wasn't her company. No, she had gotten quite settled in with her de facto boyfriend and the permanent housemate that was the young nymph Lya, and was indeed quite content with her life. She still got to hunt, she got to relax and all she had to do was keep an eye on Armani which, with the exception of the incident with the Amazons (something she should've seen coming when Armani wanted to complain about his late delivery times in person, though to be honest she was a little flattered he'd get so upset about her birthday present coming late), she had managed to do by keeping him out of trouble and she was also glad that not once in their time together at the condo had he come close to inadvertently destroying the universe (that was the one she was most worried about). No, life was indeed good. The Hunter was…happy.

Then why did she seem so on edge? Christmas was a happy time, and since Lady Artemis and the Hunters were scheduled to drop in over Christmas and new year then she should feel nothing but total contentment. But no, it was nagging at her.

As she sat on the sofa, watching Armani scurry about the living room, it finally kicked in:

He was smiling.

Now this wasn't an odd thing in itself, it wasn't like he walked around all day with a scowl carved into his face, well… not _always_ anyway, but it was something about that smile that hadn't left his face for the past day or so that had gotten to her.

It was the sort of smile you would have in that second between when you got your prey in your sights and when you release your arrow.

That, Aren concluded, could only mean one thing: he was excited about something, something that most likely fell into her category of keeping him out of trouble.

The fact that he was walking about humming Christmas carols only seemed to make it the more disturbing.

-A-

It's a funny thing, anticipation… It comes in so many forms. Normally at this point in the year I would be sitting down, planning and contemplating, plotting and preparing, and being an altogether devious little demigod. This year, my anticipation felt different; my heart was racing, I could feel the wild surging through me in readiness. I felt _good_.

Of course I hadn't told Aren. I should probably get round to that at some point.

_You think?_

_Oh be quiet._

_It's going to be the Amazons all over again…_

_You're never going to let that go, are you? I believed I was quite tactful, all things considered._

_Tactful? You walked in there, tied up that woman in reception, then, after issuing your complaint, spent fifteen minutes shouting at their leader about why their plan for world conquest was so stupid._

_It WAS stupid! They were trying to take over the world with an online book shop!_

_I know that, you know that, Aren knew that, but that didn't mean you had to rub their faces in it._

_Come along, we got out without any more violence didn't we?_

_I suppose… Though I suspect they were merely too paralysed with rage to retaliate._

_I wasn't THAT bad, give me some credit?_

_Really? You consider 'If there was a mount Stupidmore, it would have your face carved in it' not going too far?_

_What can I say; I was kind of lost in the moment._

_Speaking of which, I do believe Aren suspects something._

I paused and glanced out my peripheral vision at Aren, whom Lya had forced into a rather attractive miniature Santa outfit, to find her silently watching me, her finger swirling about in her eggnog unconsciously.

I turned my focus ahead again. _Most likely, but there's nothing she needs to worry about. This year will be different._

_You say that every year._

_Yes, but this year… this year…_

_Different?_

_Shut up. Besides, you know what I mean._

_I'm inside your head; of course I know what you mean. And, yes, I suppose I shall concede that this year will indeed be different…_

_Muahah-_

_No evil laughing, please._

_Sorry._

After I finished putting out the last of the snacks I strode over to the soft and sat down, immediately leaning over and dropping my head into Aren's lap.

She let out a slightly startled gasp, and then smiled. "Something up?" I asked, rolling over to lie on my back and look up at her.

She frowned slightly as she went to idly play with my hair as she often does, "You're up to something…"

I smiled, "I'm always up to something, what else is new?"

She smiled sweetly as she twisted one of my braids until I winced, "But this time I think it's something I should care about. You gonna tell me?"

"You know, it's hard for you to look threatening dressed like that."

She flushed and, scowling, folded her arms, "Fine, don't tell me."

I sighed, leaning up and kissing her once on her enflamed cheek before settling down, "I wouldn't worry, it's nothing malicious, nothing too troublesome and nothing that'll kill me or destroy the world. It's just…some festive fun."

Aren pouted and looked away, "…Fine, but I'm taking your word on it."

I smiled, "Splendid. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Where are you going?" asked Aren as I pushed myself to my feet and headed for the bedroom.

"I have to go and get changed…"

She watched him go, confused, "Fine, but just remember; your father is supposed to be dropping in tonight, although, I'm surprised he's not here yet…"

Armani's voice trailed out from his door, "I'm sure he's fine, probably just got lost on his way from the bus station."

"And you say not to worry?" she called.

"Like I said, he'll be fine. He is my father after all."

She rolled back to face forwards, glaring at the TV, "Yes, that's what worries me."

'Santa' sat in his sleigh, dwelling and pondering.

"I could just give it a miss this year…"

The man's outline shimmered bright gold, the outline pulling away and solidifying into the sun god's regular form.

"Are you scared or something?" Apollo asked of the other version of himself.

"No!" objected the old man harshly, "It's just… our victory might not be so…easily fabulous as all the last times." Muttered 'Santa', his voice returning to its youthful tone.

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. "Yes… He's gotten slightly… better since last year."

They both glanced at the moon and shuddered in perfect timing, "It's like she _knows_." said Apollo.

"You think she does?" asked 'Santa'.

They both looked at each other, "Nah…" they said in time, shaking their heads.

Apollo scowled, glaring at the horizon, "You think I'm scared?" he said, scowling into the night.

"I'm Santa Claus," continued the older version, "and I fear no man!"

"You know, I think you're out of character…" muttered Apollo.

"Really? You think you should've said that bit?"

Apollo nodded, "I suppose our genius is just too great to stay contained in one of us."

'Santa' inclined his head, "We are that amazing."

Apollo returned the gesture, "Magnificent." And, in as dramatic a way he could muster, he stood to his feet, hands on his hips, "Onwards!" he called, pointing ahead.

'Santa' stood up, mirroring his pose, "To victory!" they merged back into one.

And so, 'ho, ho, ho'ing his way across the night sky, 'Santa' headed off for his final annual Christmas eve challenge, where he knew his opponent would be waiting.

**December 24****th**** 2011 11:35pm**

Aren noticed the front door was slightly ajar and, as she walked outside, ignoring the chilly sea breeze, she found Armani.

She rested her hands on her hips, "Just what are you doing up there?"

Armani's eyes flicked to her and then back up to the skies he was observing, he was sitting in the centre of the condo's roof just above the crescent moon and small sun symbol, his legs folded and hands resting calmly on his knees. His aura flowed gently in the moonlight, reflecting his contentment.

He smiled softly, "Nothing much, just…enjoying the night air."

She clambered up onto the roof, scowling and ,suddenly, felt a sadness well up inside, "Please don't lie to me…."

He blinked, and she knew she'd reached him. His eyes were slightly wide, and then they softened, and he smiled, a warm boyish and almost carefree smile. He was up to something, but he was genuinely happy about it too, "It's nothing to worry about, I promise…"

She sighed as she smiled reluctantly back, her cheeks heating up somewhat. She'd have to play his game after all then, "Okay," she said walking over and dropping into a crouch by him, "You want to tell me why you're dressed in black?" she prodded. The fact he was in his Hunter's tunic was a giveaway, but he only ever wore two kinds; green and brown for hunting in the forest and when fighting regular opponents, and black; which he wore when fighting either mystical or non-human adversaries and needed to stay in the shadows. She nudged the hilt on at his hip, "And why you're _armed_?"

Surprisingly, he chuckled, his smile widening, "Because I'm happy to be alive, and I feel the need to celebrate that…and the fact that I love you."

She pouted and looked away to hide the blush she knew would form. She really hated it when he played that card, it was usually the one she used, "…not letting you off the hook that easily."

He laughed, "I'd be disappointed if you did…"

He looked back up into the sky, "You know, you really should get ready for bed, you need to go to sleep early on Christmas eve."

She frowned, "Why?"

He smirked, "because Santa Claus might not bring you your presents…"

She did a take and then elbowed him gently, "Be serious."

He inclined his head, "I am. Who do you think I'm out here waiting for? He usually gives me mine in person."

She cocked an eyebrow, and then smiled almost pityingly, "Armani, you do know… right?"

He continued looking up, that ghost of a smile unmoving, "Know what?"

She let out a long sigh, "You know, that Santa doesn't—" she halted mid-sentence as a gentle jingling sound drifted across the winter air. She frowned and turned about, looking up.

And, in that instant, what faith Aren McNamara had in the sanity of the world died a very quick death.

In the distance, a red sleigh soared through the night sky, closing quickly on their location.

Aren's jaw dropped, "W-wha?" she gaped and noticed the smile on her companions face widen, his white teeth showing. It was no longer a smile; it was a wolf baring his teeth in anticipation as the red sleigh came within a mile's distance.

His aura went from a steady flow and erupted into an almost blazing flame.

"I would suggest you turn in now, Aren." said Armani, pushing himself slowly to his feet, hand drifting to his side.

Aren just stared, wide-eyed between the boy and the closing sleigh, "Wh-why?"

His smile stretched into a feral grin as his hand pulled his sword free and twirled it into a readied stance, "Because, my dear… Santa Claus is coming to town."

_To be continued…_

[A/N] And so that does that for this little instalment. I hope you all had a merry Christmas. Not sure if I'll close this one on a new year's party chapter or not, but we've got matters to attend to with what's coming up. Let the last battle begin…

See you all in Chapter 9: 2011 (Part 2)


	9. Chapter 9: 2011 Part 2

[A/N] And so the festive period is over, the decorations are away and things slowly return to normal, hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and are rearing to go for the new year. Seems this fic is still in the festive mood though, and so let's continue…

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 9: 2011 (Part 2)**

"_What?_" Gaped Aren for what must've been the fourth time.

Armani began pacing slowly, keeping his eyes up as the sleigh turned sideways and began a slow vertical decent until it hung silently in the air above the condo, it's occupant's head held high as he looked down on the boy.

"Santa Claus, "said Armani, "…my mortal enemy."

"_WHAT?_"

"How many times are you going to say that word? And please close your mouth." asked Armani absently as he switched his sword from hand to hand whilst pacing.

She looked at the boy incredulously, "To be honest I think I'm somewhat entitled to my reaction. And what are you talking about; Mortal enemy?"

He shrugged, "Well, I say _mortal_…"

"That's not what I meant and you—"

"Ahem!" coughed the old man, who was drumming his fingers on the edge of his sleigh.

Armani blinked, "Right. Sorry about that. I suppose we should get down to it."

'Santa' inclined his head, "We probably should."

"Wait, wait, _wait,_" Butted in Aren, "Does anyone want to tell me what's going on here?"

Armani cocked his head, "He comes every Christmas Eve, gives me a present, we fight to see how much I've improved, and then he leaves."

Aren 's eyebrows went up, "You say that like it's a normal thing! And, what, you do this every year?"

Surprisingly to Aren, the boy was quiet, as was the man in red. They seemed to have a silent exchange; a mutual understanding. After the brief pause, Armani spoke, "No. This will be the last time."

The old man smiled and, without another word, retrieved a very festive looking golden sword from his sack.

"Armani, you can't seriously be considering fighting an old—" the man then leapt out of his sleigh into a double forward somersault and landed in a crouch before drawing himself up to full height and flourishing his blade expertly in the air, "—man." She let out a long, exasperated breath, "It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?"

Armani cocked his head, "Pretty much…._Sorry._"

Aren's eyes widened as she regarded the badly disguised sword in the old man's hand, "But that's… It _can't be_." Her eyes flicked up to the sleigh and back at the man. She turned to Armani as he advanced on his enemy, "Armani, stop! That's not really Santa –and I can't believe I'd ever have to say that to you—It's…"

"Aren!" Armani snapped probably more harshly than he intended and he looked at her for a moment.

Realisation struck in her. _He already knows, then why—_

As if reading her thoughts, the old man spoke, "How long have you known?" he asked of the young demigod.

Armani smiled, "Why don't you tell me."

'Santa' smirked, "You've been hiding your thoughts from me since you were seven. I really can't be sure."

Armani's smile twitched into a smirk, "Then I guess that'll just be my little secret, especially since I know how much _not_ knowing something drives you mad. Regardless, let's get this moving."

The old man sighed, "Yes. So then, boy. Tell me; have you been good this year?"

Armani began a slow semi-circle in front of him, still flicking his sword from hand to hand, "Why don't you come and see how good I've _become_?"

"In good time…" He replied, and then reached slowly into his bag. He whipped his hand out quickly, Aren flinching into a fighting stance, to retrieve a trio of parcels, "For you and your two housemates." He snapped his finger and they vanished, "And now they're under the tree."

Armani inclined his head, "Thank you, Santa." He said politely, "Now where were we?"

"Right about here—"

-A-

I was somewhat surprised by 'Santa's' sudden attack, but I was fast enough to whip my sword around into a guard, but I did end up having to brace my heel down to keep the blade away.

"Not bad, boy. Just last year I could've broken your arm with that strike."

I ground my teeth as he applied more pressure, "Yeah, well… One can but…_try!_ " I grunted and bashed my forehead off the old man's.

To be honest this did more damage to me than my enemy, but it startled him enough for me to pivot about and kick him away to a safe distance.

_We're near the forest, under the full moon and it's the dead of night… perhaps I might just have a chance…_

_Don't. Don't fight as if you're sure you can win!_

'Santa' had staggered to a halt with his hand on his face, "Again between the damned eyes…"

Obviously irritated, he crossed the distance between us with a blur of golden light. His blow wasn't as strong, but he had obviously decided speed was probably better than brute strength.

"Tell me, old man…" I said, my hand moving on its own to block slash after slash as he pushed me to the edge of the roof, "…is it just me, or have you gotten weaker in the past year?" I said as I ducked under his guard and shoulder barged him forwards, leaning back and punching him once square in the chest.

_You're getting overconfident. Keep your guard up!_

He let out a wheezing gasp and raised his blade again, "Well tell_ me_, boy, has your skill increased to match your overconfidence?" he said with a growl as he spun about into a low slash at my lower legs. I leapt effortlessly over it only for him to catch me in the gut with his boot and send me spinning to across the rooftop.

My hand lashed up and caught on the edge as I swung over the side, my other catching my blade from the air.

I groaned as I felt 'Santa' press his boot onto my hand and I looked up to find the tip of his blade touching into my knuckle, "I suppose _not_." said the old man in answer to his own question.

I smiled, "You're the overconfident one…"

He frowned, "Meaning what?"

"That the sum of my combat ability doesn't just exist in me anymore."

He probably would've asked what I meant, but it was quite redundant as Aren had just rammed into him from the left side and sent him flying to the floor.

I swung left and flipped myself back onto the roof, Aren helping to steady my, "Thank you. I was wondering when you'd choose to join the fun."

She sighed, "If you're going to be insane, I may as well be by your side when it happens."

'Santa' cursed under his breath as he pulled himself up, "Really shouldn't have turned my back on that one. So… Two on one is it?"

Aren glowered at him, "We always fight together. Even if Armani demanded I didn't get involved, you really didn't think I'd just stand there, did you?"

"One armed and one unarmed. Your lack of a defence will make you a liability, Aren." said the old man, just before the Huntress reached down the front of her top and pulled free a sheathed dagger.

'Santa' blinked, "Well, didn't see that one coming…and I rarely say that."

Aren responded by drawing her dagger and, with a flick of her wrist, hurled the sheath at 'Santa's' face.

The old man's hand shot up and grabbed it out of the air, smirking, "You really think I'd get hit in the same spot—" I cut him off by using his distraction to close the distance between us and give him a nasty gash on his arm.

He took a few steps back as Aren leapt over my back and into an overhead slash with her dagger.

With a roar, 'Santa' lashed out with his arm and slammed her down into the felted surface. "Enough of this—" Again the old man was unable to finish as Aren cut him off, this time with a very nastily placed upward kick to 'Santa's' groin.

Even I winced there.

It also dropped 'Santa' to his knees.

Aren slipped free and leapt back to her feet, backing up to my side, "_Oh, _Aren…" I said, shaking my head.

"_What_?" she asked.

I pointed at the man, "Low blow, my dear…"

She merely shrugged, "Am I supposed to care?"

I heard a guttural growl come from the old man as he spoke up, his voice back in its younger form and the winter air began to feel distinctively warmer, "Oh, you will." snarled the man.

"Aren" I said, "Back away…_"_

'Santa' raised his gaze up, teeth bared and eyes nothing more than pools of blazing light.

_Not good…_

He flung a hand out at Aren and a streamer of golden light shot from his palm which materialised into ropes that instantly bound the Huntress ' arms and legs tightly. The Huntress cried out with shock and anger as she fell to the floor.

I moved to help her, but 'Santa' was already on his feet, groaning slightly, "I say we play a new game." Said the man, his voice undisguised still, "I call it: _Save the girl._" Aren's bound form rose a few feet into the air and the ropes glowed, a semi-translucent barrier forming about her.

I tapped the pommel of my sword of it and had to recoil back when a burst of flame nearly burned my hand off.

I raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the man, "_'Save the girl'_? Eloquent as always."

He smiled, "You always do fight at your best when something's on the line. Rules go like this: You beat me however you choose, and I let the girl go and it's forever your victory against me."

"And if I lose."

He shrugged, "I still let the girl go, but it will be forever your loss and you'll have to live with the memory that, if this had been a real battle, you'd have lost the one closest to your heart as a result."

I gritted my teeth, "Kind of low if you ask me."

He scowled, "One low blow for another. I'm calling us even." His eyes flicked sideways, "Oh, and tell your little wood nymph friend sneaking up behind me that if she tries to ensnare me, her roots are going to get a very nasty singeing."

I shrugged, "Really? You could probably tell her yourself…"

'Santa' rolled his eyes, "I was trying to be dramatic."

"Melodramatic," I corrected, "and tried and failed."

I saw Lya lean about 'Santa' , "Umm, does this mean I don't fight?"

I sighed, "No, Lya. Just sit by Aren and cheer me on."

She smiled, "Will do." And so she weaved about the old man, stopping only to stick her tongue out at him before jogging over to sit next to the Hunter.

'Santa' narrowed his eyes at me, "Now then, I think it's time we put an end to—"

"Boo fat man!"

"Wait for the fight to start, Lya…"

"Sorry…"

"To Hades with it, I'm just going to start attacking you."

And he did. Only this time I remembered the feeling from last year and all those years previous, knowing what I was going up against and that feeling of being totally outclassed. Only he had made one mistake. He had told me to consider my friends lives to be in danger.

And so I did.

As we exchanged flurries of blows and slashes, I wasn't tiring, the full moon and proximity to the forest (which was amplified thanks to Lya's tree) was like a constant burst of adrenalin, fuelling me onwards.

He wasn't overpowering me. No, I could keep his monstrous strength nearly at bay.

But still he was beating me. It wasn't even a matter of speed any more. I could keep up with his blindingly fast moves, but still he got in his nicks and cuts.

Blows were still landing and the bruises were building, and finally it hit me…

_I…can't beat him._

_Really, considering you're not planning on giving up, I find that an odd thing to say._

_No… He's fast, and I know his moves. But I can only match his speed. I can't match his reaction times though. He's a god, his thoughts move instantly. As fast as I can go he'll always have his counter ready._

_And I'm assuming you have a plan to counter this else you wouldn't be talking to me whilst fighting him. Watch out for that mid-level strike._

_I saw it. The thing is, even using my instinct subconsciously to keep my reaction times to a minimum, there's still a break and pause when he can take advantage. I need to eliminate hesitation._

_Then just listen to me without question._

_Impossible, as long as I'm in control I question everything before agreeing to it. It's in my nature._

_I'd sigh if it were possible, so what's your point?_

_My point is I can't beat him because of that gap in reaction. He never stops moving, even to think. I come close to that, but there's still a gap._

_I said I follow, so I'll ask again: What is your point?_

_You don't follow, and I made my point: I said that I can't beat him_

_And I said—_

_**I**__ Can't beat him._

There was a long silence in my head and was only dimly aware of the sounds of clashing swords.

…_No._

_No, what?_

_I'm not doing it._

_But I—_

_I am NOT assuming control just to assist with your petty vendetta with him._

_What? Scared you'll lose?_

_I have no ego to bruise, Armani. So don't even try._

_Then why are you hesitating to help?_

…

_Wow, I actually just beat you in an argument for once._

_Oh, shut up…_

_Don't tell me to—_

_You tell me to all the time!_

_That's different!_

_How?_

…_.Look, are you going to help or not? At best you can level the playing field against him and that's all I ask. Though I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't push my body too hard. Besides, you heard what he said: If this were a real battle…I'd lose her._

_I hate you… I really do._

_No you don't._

_Oh, be silent, and as for pushing your body too far, I know your limits. What happened that time was a one off…As will this be. Never ask this of me again._

"You seem a bit distracted, Armani." said 'Santa' with a smirk as he bashed away at his opponent's guard, the demigod himself having been on nothing more than a defensive for the past few minutes. The man in red flicked the boy's sword up and kicked him flat in the chest and shouldered him to the floor. Before he could roll away 'Santa' pinned him down with a foot to the chest, "You'll never win this way." He said to the unresponsive boy who lay with his eyes closed.

'Santa' twirled his blade over in his hand and prepared to give the boy a nasty wound in his shoulder. And, as he swung it into a strike, the boy's hand shot up and caught the naked blade between his thumb and forefinger. If the demigod felt any discomfort as the sword cut down into his skin between the fingers, then he did not show it.

"W-wha…" began 'Santa' as the boy's grip tightened and, eyes still closed, leaned back and kicked him once in the chest, hard. The old man choked and pulled back, not before the boy could get three more rapid kicks in with both his left and right feet that lifted the man off the ground slightly and sent him staggering back halfway across the roof.

'Santa's' hand went to his chest and he looked up as the boy leaned back into his shoulders and flipped himself straight onto his feet. The demigod seemed to sway slightly before halting.

He lifted his injured hand to his face and quickly licked the wound clean, before letting the appendage fall limply to his side.

'Santa' observed the boy's aura, which had been alternating between a light glow and flame-like form up until now, change into a thick, river-like flow around his outline.

The boy finally opened his eyes.

'Santa' took another step back.

A pair of elongated pupils regarded 'Santa' with a cold, alien intelligence as a tiny smile graced the boy's features as he cocked his head, and said in a voice echoing with a slight female undertone, "Okay, _Santa_…Time for a new game."

_To be continued…_

[A/N] And so we conclude this little issue. Sorry it took a few more days to come out, but new years kind of got in the way. I'll do my best to be with you again as soon as possible. The tale grows towards a close.

Catch you in Chapter 10: 2011 (Part 3)


	10. Chapter 10: 2011 Part 3

[A/N] I dedicate this chapter to the memory of my fallen netbook. It served me well for 3 years and helped to produce hundreds of thousands of words before finally giving out, it had in the past broke down at times, delaying me slightly, but always it pulled through and barely scraped out Broken Bow 5, but I guess it just didn't have enough steam left in it for a Christmas special… and so I gave it the Viking burial it deserved: I took it apart and cannibalised it's parts. It has regretfully taken this long to fund a replacement and since my laptop was too bulky to carry during the day when I write I've never had the time to continue this fic. Well let's hope that wont happen again and so will keep you waiting no longer… _Now_….where was I?

**Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 10: 2011 (Part 3)**

'Santa' kept his eyes locked on the crouched figure. The old man's demeanour changed as he tightened up his guard. Whatever this was, it wasn't something he had anticipated…

And he rarely admitted that.

He raised his sword up cautiously, watching as Armani's erratic posture changed. The god could practically see the tendons in the boy's legs tightening in preparation to strike. He crouched forward slightly, brow clenched. The god was for an instant reminded of the way a cat arches it's back the instant before it strikes.

_What has he done? His eyes…and his entire body language; it's changed completely._

The god observed the boy's sword, which was hanging loosely in his had as if forgotten, and the old man suspected this lax guard to be a deception, as every other part of the boy's body screamed out an intent to attack.

'Santa' readied, sensing his opponent about to charge. And he was right, the boy was about to attack, but he didn't charge.

He pounced.

The boy sprang up into the air directly at the old man and, with an almost feral smirk and banshee-like shriek of delight, brought his sword up overhead to strike.

The god was taken aback, disturbed, and almost forgot to block the boy's strike.

_His inhibitions too… They're gone, completely gone!_

Armani landed with his foot in 'Santa's' chest, both hands pushing down his sword as he stared into his opponents eyes with something akin to glee.

'Santa's' other hand gripped the pommel as the boy remained crouched on his chest trying to cleave him open. "What the _hell_ have you done?" said the god through gritted teeth.

With a flick of his wrist 'Santa' managed to dislodge his opponents sword enough so it slid down the length of his blade and, as it struck the guard, he wheeled about and shoved the demigod off him.

As Armani landed, 'Santa' lashed out and latched firmly onto his ankle. This proved to be a mistake.

Before 'Santa' could stamp down on the boy and put him into submission, the half-blood leaned back, essentially pulling himself up into 'Santa's' grip.

He twisted his torso about, 'Santa' reflexively bringing his sword up to guard an attack from Armani's blade, but was not prepared from an attack on the opposite side.

The god didn't have time to prepare as the demigod slashed out with his left hand at the older man's face. There was a splash of gold as the boy's nails raked open four lines of flesh on the god's face.

The god let out an indignant cry, releasing both boy and blade, as he went to cradle the side of his face.

Armani landed on both hands and sprung up into a roundhouse kick that struck the old man on the opposite cheek, sending him hurting to the floor halfway across the roof, the demigod landing crouched on his hands and feet, eyes locked on the enemy before arching up and letting out an ecstatic howl of victory into the night sky.

The aura about the half-blood seemed to separate into a swirling mist that dissipated into the night for an instant before returning to the child who then crouched back down to watch the prone enemy.

'Santa' lay silent for a moment, face concealed and didn't get up. The temperature on the roof began to fluctuate wildly, pulsing up from between sub-zero and tropical temperatures. The others noticed the roof's black coating bubbling underneath the crouched god.

All the while the boy remained poised, sniffing the air occasionally as if in continued reassessment of the situation.

_This isn't human movement, nothing about this is human._

"Who are you?" demanded 'Santa' after a moment.

The boy's eyes narrowed at the question. He tilted his head in response. Something akin to an amused smile came to his face, as if it had trouble imitating the emotion, "Don't you know?"

'Santa' looked up, eyes blazing; the wound on his face closing up, "You are not Armani."

His eyebrows rose as if this were perfectly acceptable, "True," he admitted in that strange voice that resonated under his own like a whisper in the winters night, "and I'll ask again: don't you know? After all, I've always been here, right here. Simmering beneath the surface. You see; I'm the moment of the wolf's bite, the instant the tiger bares it's claws, the howl in the night to those you cannot see but somehow know can hear. I am action without thought."

"Instinct…" breathed Aren almost disbelievingly, "You're Armani's instinct."

Instinct turned 'her' head about to regard the Nymph and the suspended Huntress, the nymph flinching back for a second behind Aren.

Aren seemed to shudder under her scrutiny, "Precisely." 'she' said after a moment.

"There's no way… no _way_ you should be in control." said the disguised god.

She smiled, "Of course not. In fact, I shouldn't _be_ at all. If Armani were born in a conventional way, he'd merely have me as a silent force granting him greater reflexes and slightly sharper edges to his personality, but he wasn't conventional; very little is about him…unfortunately. Think of me as a bit of a glitch; a happy result of the birth of a demigod that never should have occurred."

"Then why haven't I sensed you up until now?"

The question seemed to amuse her, "Because I haven't allowed you to. Haven't you ever wondered how Armani was capable of guarding his thoughts from you even in his sleep? How even if he was distracted but his intent was to keep you out, that you were unable to see inside his mind?"

'Santa' scowled, "You're saying that was you?"

She just smiled slightly, "Who knows…"

His frown deepened in response and his golden blade shot back into his hand, "Enough of this. I think you've wasted enough of my time. I'll admit I was surprised to begin with, but now that element is used up."

Instinct didn't bother raising her guard as 'Santa' prepared to attack, "Oh, I wouldn't say that." she said ambiguously.

It was as the god closed half the distance between him and his enemy that he found himself with less than an instant to curse his own hubris.

And then that instant passed.

And the wolves were upon him.

A pack of a dozen ethereal silver wolves leaped up over the sides of the roof in a circular formation.

'Santa' let out a cry of shock and pain as several of them sank their teeth in, bringing him to the ground, each attacking with the viciousness that existed at the core of the one who summoned them.

It would also be less than tactful to reiterate the stream of Greek curses the god began bellowing as he tried to pull himself up, the wolves doing their best to keep him down.

With a deep growl, the man began pulsing with light, his body levitating up off the roof several feet and with an enraged roar, let out a sphere of blazing light around his body, vaporizing the assailants who had still been latched onto him.

He oriented himself back up in mid-aid, red suit in tatters and stained with gold, only to be struck by a well placed side-kick to the chest by Instinct which sent him flying off the roof and, ironically, crashing into a 7 foot tall hollow fibreglass Santa statue that had been standing on the lawn.

The decoration rolled over onto it's back, the god still inside.

Instinct landed on the edge of the roof in a crouch, looking down at the statue.

Her brow twitched and she sniffed the air quickly as the statue shifted, rolling side to side before suddenly rolling upright on it's rounded base.

Everything was silent for a moment.

Instinct rose back to her feet, eyes trained on the statue as it rose into the air of its own accord.

The plastic form suddenly began vibrating, rocking quickly in the air and, with a bellowing roar that echoed over the night skies, a giant twenty foot tall 'Santa' exploded outwards from within, eyes ablaze with light that cast eerie daylight over the condo.

"**BOY!**" he bellowed down at the demigod who continued to regard him impassively.

"Do you see a boy around here?" she asked dryly after a pause.

The giant Saint Nic gritted his teeth, hand lunging for the demigod who leapt nimbly onto the outstretched limb, bolted up, and kicked him square between the eyes.

"Way to add petrol to the fire, Armani or whoever you are!" barked Aren from the sidelines as she watched the situation go from bad to worse to absolutely catastrophic.

The god let out another growl, one hand going to his face.

Instinct landed on his wrist, readying to attack again, when 'Santa's' left arm lashed up with blinding speed and snatched the demigod out of the air and into his grip.

'Santa's' other arm dropped to his side, a smirk spreading over his face, "Got you…"

"Armani!" cried Aren, momentarily forgetting it wasn't her boyfriend currently in the driving seat.

Instinct shifted slightly, judging if a struggle for freedom would be effectual and then went still, regarding her captor in her usual manner.

"You will not harm me." she said simply.

'Santa' gave a sharp, bitter laugh, "Oh, and what makes you say that?"

Instinct cocked an eyebrow, "Because I know you will never hurt Armani, no matter how angry you get, you always hold back against this one."

The god's eyes glinted darkly and, just for a second, what could be interpreted as worry flashed over the possessed demigod's face for an instant, "But as you quite clearly pointed out a moment ago: you're _not_ Armani right now…are you?"

Instinct looked back blankly, "…did _not_ think of it that way."

'Santa's' smile widened, "I didn't think you would… now let me remind you of something I once told your host: never oppose the gods; we _always_ make you regret it in the end."

"You're really going to rub this one in, aren't you?" asked Instinct dryly?"

The god's grip tightened, "Rub? No, I was thinking more of a crushing, _grinding_ sort of lesson in humility."

Instinct gritted her teeth, "Armani was right, you really do have a petulant temper." she grunted, shuffling in the god's increasing grip.

"Don't worry, I wont leave any _lasting_ damage, but I assure you this will not be an experience you'll forget in a hurry" he said, holding the demigod out in one hand like a small doll. He leaned in, inclining his head, "What? No more witty remarks?"

Instinct didn't respond, her eyes flicking to Aren and back.

"No? Very well then, I guess I'll just have to-" he stopped, frowning as a rustling, grinding noise became audible, "What the-?"

He didn't have time to contemplate further as a huge rope-like tendril erupted from the earth and lashed about his outstretched wrist, tightening firmly about it. "What is this?" he bellowed as more shot up out the ground, binding his arms and legs. Another came out and snapped about his throat, pulling him back.

'Santa' glared indignantly, eyes blazing, down at the small form of Lya, "I thought I told you-" he began, struggling still.

The little nymph yelped, looking down at her own hands as if to confirm something, "I'm not doing this! I was told not to get involved in the fight."

The god growled as the one about his wrist tugged once, twice and then a third time. Each pull banging his wrist against the rim of the roof with a nasty cracking sound. More and more roots lashed about the god, binding him tightly. He struggled, tearing himself partly free only for more bindings to erupt and replace them. The momentary distraction obviously tore his attention away from the captive huntress as the barrier about her cracked and shattered into nothing, releasing the girl who landed in a readied crouch.

Instinct's eyes narrowed at her impassively and then sighed, "How tiresome…Well I suppose that's my job done. As always, the rest is up to you…" she lamented, her eyes glazing over as they returned back to their normal state.

-A-

It was a strange sensation, like being submerged in warm water, images flashing dreamlike before my eyes; thoughts beyond my comprehension flicking across my mind before vanishing into the darkness each time I attempted to grasp hold of one.

And then it was over, I was back to normal as easily as one might sit up in the bath.

I shook my head, clearing the last of the red that seemed to have been covering my eyes.

I immediately took stock of the situation.

Aren was free; this was the first thing I saw and top on my list of priorities.

Then I looked down and about myself.

I appeared to be encased in a very large velvet covered fist which, upon cranking my head around and up, turned out to be attached to the arm of a very angry and very _large_ Santa Claus.

_Instinct!_

_You rang?_

_What the hell?_

_What? You asked me to get your precious mate free. This was accomplished. I think I'll leave the rest in your very capable hands._

I looked up again at the god, whose eyes blazed back at me whilst what appeared to be tree roots repeatedly burst up through the ground and bound him.

_Well THANKS for all your help!_

_You're welcome._

I decided to forestall any further chastisement and consider how to get free.

Suddenly the god lurched as the thick root about his arm tugged, slamming it against the rooftop and rattling my teeth with the impact.

The hand twitched, loosening slightly and, upon the next smash, I wriggled free and leaped over the fist out onto the rooftop.

I rolled over and grabbed my sword and up into a readied stance. It appeared however that the giant Santa hadn't even realised my escape and was far more concerned with his current root problem.

He obviously seemed to have underestimated just how powerful those imbued with the power of the forest would be in this place, a temple of Artemis by a forest, under a full moon. This wasn't to mention the fact his own powers would be somewhat diminished because of those same factors.

"Lya, are you-?" I began, but she just cut me off with a confused shake of the head, "Then who in the heck-" again I couldn't finish as the bound giant tensed up, looking past me towards the hill leading up to the forest.

"_You_!" he said in a voice that was half-way between his elder and younger persona as he glared off in that direction.

I turned about, and immediately found myself becoming as shocked as the god.

At the edge of the driveway, standing next to a figure in a grey hooded cloak, her outline glowing slightly in the moonlight, was Lanaya.

I gaped at her, the shock giving way to momentary elation, "Miss Lanaya!"

Her eyes, which had been fixed on the giant Santa, flicked to me and I noticed her expression soften, "Hello, Sapling. Why, you've barely grown at all."

I let out a slightly choked laugh, "What are you doing here?"

She cocked her head in that way that made me feel like I had asked a totally ridiculous question, "It's Christmas Eve, little one. Where else would I be?"

"Okay, now I'm seriously calling foul!" said 'Santa' in his younger voice, "This is totally cheating!"

There was suddenly a blur of movement as the figure that had been standing next to the elder nymph dashed forward and leaped up onto a windowsill and then pulled himself up onto the roof.

He strode forwards and tore his cloak off, tossing it to the side.

It really was a night for unexpected surprises, "Father!" I gaped as Hippolytus dusted down the midnight-blue suit he was wearing. I glanced between her and the nymph, "But… _how?_"

Lanaya sighed, "If you must know, I found him wandering in the forest."

"I was not _wandering_. I had merely…lost my bearings momentarily."

I looked over at him, "You were supposed to be getting a cab straight here from the train station. How could you mess that up?"

He sighed, "Alas, my journey turned out to be fraught with more peril than first I imagined. My locomotive transport departed without me, forcing me to seek alternate travel arrangements with the friendly people at a company named 'ABA'. However, they did not take me as far as I had hoped, meaning I was then forced to traverse a forest as the shortest way here. Things were complicated further when a wayward carrion absconded with my charts, no doubt to line it's nest on this cold winter's night_. _Thankfully, this wayward tree spirit was heading in my direction and kindly assisted me with my quandary."

I nodded thoughtfully, "Aren?"

"He missed his train, took a bus, a bird stole his map and he got lost in the woods."

"Ah."

"So, you have reinforcements." said the still bound god, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand.

I took a step forwards when suddenly my father extended his arm sideways, blocking me.

I looked at him and noticed there seemed to have been a change in him, something clicking into place, as a look of seriousness I had never seen in him before appeared.

With a flick of his wrist he had drawn his slender blade from inside his suit jacket.

If he was afraid of the giant Santa looking down at him, then he wasn't showing it, and I suddenly realised what it was that had caused him to act like this. It would also appear that 'Santa' had forgotten just what this place was now.

Hippolytus flourished his blade and said, in as simple and matter-of-factly a way as possible, "It is my duty to inform you that you have violated the sanctity of a temple of the great Lady Artemis... Prepare to die."

He lurched forwards, moving to cleave 'Santa's' throat clean open, only for the giant man in red to escape his bounds by the simplest means possible.

He shrunk.

Hippolytus skidded to a halt, eyes locked on his enemy and I realised Lanaya had somehow appeared at my side.

Aren retrieved her dagger and readied herself to attack also.

'Santa's' blade appeared back into his hand as he backed up to the edge of the roof, eyes flicking from enemy to enemy.

Finally his eyes settled on me, and his shoulders seemed to sag as he sighed, "You know what the worst part of all this is?"

I frowned, "And what's that?"

He let out a tired breath, "I totally saw this coming…"

_To be concluded…_

_[A/N] Well it's been a while and good to be back. I'm glad you all showed me patience and didn't resort to lynching me for the delays in getting this one out, and I promise the next one will be out ASAP. Until next time!_

_See you all in Chapter 11: 2011 (Final)_


	11. Chapter 11: 2011 Final

[A/N] Well It's been a long path leading up to this point, and indeed longer than I had first assumed. Indeed this was supposed to be a much shorter fic, but as with most things I write, the cards did simply not land that way. Anyways, let's carry on, times a wastin'.

**The 12 Years of Christmas**

**Chapter 11: 2011 (final)**

Apollo always used to say there were rules for everything in life, being a god his very existence was tied into these rules; the 'natural order' he called it. There were even unspoken rules, like the ones between myself and 'Santa'. The rules explained why I ever even stood a chance against him: he never used anything when fighting me that was truly beyond my ability to handle. After all, if he simply incinerated me the instant the fight began (like I knew he could with nothing more than a thought) then he wouldn't really get much in the way of enjoyment out of a fight. Of course, this was a two-way path; when instinct had revealed herself, 'Santa' had therefore utilised his own tactic for levelling the playing field by changing into his giant form.

I suppose one could call it punishment for being underhanded.

That explained why the god hadn't simply sent us flying with a blaze of sunlight the instant the battle began, but that _didn't_ explain why, now my father and Lanaya had intervened, that he hadn't upped the stake on his side in response.

Either he was up to something, or we really did have him cornered. Either way, forcing a god's hand was, without exception, a universally inadvisable course of action.

I let out a sigh.

There really was only one thing for it then…

"Attack!" I called out, 'Santa' raising his sword in readiness.

My father extended his hand out to stop me, "worry not, my son. I shall best our foe."

"Umm, father… I don't think that's-" but he was already attacking.

An instant later he shot back across the roof as 'Santa' kicked him away.

He scrambled back to my side a second later, "It would appear are foe is more agile than his stature dictates. Worry not!"

I rolled my eyes, "_Why?"_

"We shall yet prevail and-"

"He's a god," I cut in dryly.

Hippolytus blinked, turned to 'Santa', and then back again, "Truly?"

I inclined my head, "'fraid so, old man."

His brow clenched in thought, "Worry not!"

"Stop saying that! It's _making me_ worry!"

"Very well, I have a new plan. We shall attack once more! Only this time-"

"He can hear you, you know?" I cut in, but he carried right on.

"-We shall attack as a joint venture. Together, our combined might and valiant effort shall surely vanquish our foe!"

I cocked an eyebrow, "So… just do exactly what we were going to do in the first place?"

He nodded emphatically, "Indeed."

I sighed and raised my sword back up, "Okay, people, as we were."

And so we attacked.

It surprised me, that for people who for the most part had never fought before, how well we battled together. Many persons attacking one in a closed space isn't something done without coordination.

The two Nymph's dealt with restraining the old man, who would then blaze free of them when they became too much of a hindrance. I noticed Lya wince in pain each time he broke out of her grasp, Lanaya must've had a much higher threshold for pain as she barely blinked each time her roots were damaged.

I noticed the god seemed particularly wary of fending off my father's blade, which left Aren and I to attack his unguarded spots. This was not as easy as it sounds as 'Santa's' flailing seemed to have a knack for accuracy and ended kicking both me and Aren clear on more than one occasion.

Regardless of difficulty, one thing was becoming clear: he was currently outmatched.

This unsettled me, I had no doubt he would soon pull something to level the playing field, and so I wasted no further time.

I flicked up an eyebrow and the silver wolves hanging on the periphery of the fight launched into the fray. I just had to pin him to the ground; make him submit. However, dragging a god to his knees is not an easy feat, as you may very well imagine.

That was when he made his move.

In the split-second between blocking my father's blade and the wolves striking, his outline seemed to blur and, for an instant, I thought I was seeing double.

That was until I realised I _was_ seeing double.

The second form pulled free of the old man, solidifying into Apollo; donned in a festive red and white tuxedo version of his alter-ego's outfit.

His foot glowed with light and he swung into an arching kick that struck each of the wolves out of the air causing them to explode into wisps of silver moonlight.

Apollo landed and waved his hand. The roots constraining 'Santa' burned away as the sun god materialised a blade in his hand. Both turned in readiness to fight.

"Hello, uncle. I was wondering when you'd finally choose to show yourself."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Well look at you, all grown up, I suppose you're a bit beyond me needing to pretend any more."

I smiled, "Oh, I wouldn't say that… we all need to pretend sometimes."

"Well I'm not pretending any more." He said seriously and with that air of nobility present in his family, "Get ready."

I clenched my grip on my sword as the wolves reformed around me. He was serious now. This was exactly what I was trying not to bring out; giant angry Apollo I could deal with. That was just him throwing a temper tantrum, that Apollo I could handle. This Apollo was the Apollo that assisted half-bloods in mysterious and subtle ways on their quests, the Apollo that fought against Typon in the war.

This was the Apollo I was trying to avoid.

I knew a god could divide their presence between two places at once, and even if his physical power was split in some way, we still had two extremely powerful targets now instead of one.

"Lord Apollo…" breathed my father.

The god smirked, "Yes, I can see you all are stunned. It was really me all along!"

_Resisting…urge… to face palm._

_Is this as serious as he gets?_

"Umm… We kind of already-" began Aren, but I raised my palm up to cut her off.

"Don't…Just…No." I said, rolling my eyes, "Can we just fight now?"

"That eager are you?" asked the god, still smirking.

My eyes flicked past him to his counterpart, "I'll handle the old man. I still have to beat him. Everyone else, take care of his tag-team partner."

'Santa' let out a hearty laugh, "You think you can beat me alone?"

I shrugged, the wolves at my sides letting out low growls, "Why not… That's how it's always been, hasn't it?"

The old man smiled slightly, "You always did have a sense of aptness, I'll give you that. Proceed."

I charged forward, the wolves remaining behind to help the others. Apollo moved forwards as I passed him, raising his blade to strike my father.

'Santa's' blade was up already, waiting for my strike. It was nearing midnight, and the skies were clear; my powers were at their best and Apollo's were nearly at the point where they waned the most. This was my chance.

The battle behind me I followed by sound alone. Blades sung as they cut through the air and I caught the sound of teeth tearing through fabric, often followed by a brief whine as a wolf was dispatched. Blood tinted the scent in the air. And still I kept fighting. There was slight strain on the old man's face. He was obviously dividing his attention between the two fights and the amount of power he had put into his Santa persona was obviously much less than the amount he was exerting in his regular one. I just knew I had to beat him before he beat the others and turned his full attention on me.

"I must say, not bad, boy." grunted the old man as he swung into a low swipe at my legs which I leapt over just in time, countering with a kick to the chest.

I landed and twirled my blade back into readiness, "Well, I had a half-decent teacher…and a decent obstacle to overcome."

He smirked, and attacked again. I was surely more nimble than he was powerful, "Are you saying I'm your Everest?" he asked as our weapons clashed over and over.

"Perhaps a year ago I would've thought you that, but I regret to inform you that I've been forced to downgrade you to more of a Kilimanjaro." I shouldered into him, his blade cutting into my upper arm, but I got him off balance. I swung about and hit him with a punch under the chin. His head snapped back and sent him staggering.

_Keep pushing, don't give him time to recover!_

I gave what I can only describe as a somewhat merciless slash across his unguarded chest. I heard a mutual cry of pain from the two Apollos as 'Santa' fell backwards.

_Finish him!_

I swung my blade around and drove it down to impale him through the shoulder when his hand lashed out, a golden arrow gripped in it. He stabbed into the side of my lower right leg, the tip of the arrow puncturing clean into the muscle.

Pain arched up the side of my body as I lost balance, the injured man shoving me backwards and slashing upwards with his blade, cleaving a nasty gash across my torso.

My vision began to blur as he kicked me flat in the chest and onto my back several metres away, most of my strength being used to keep hold of my sword.

I looked up through lidded eyes.I was relatively sure that the fact there now seemed to be six Santas was not due to any trickery on the part of Apollo.

I glanced hazily to the side, Apollo was dealing with the others but had sustained several injuries, his pristine suit was ripped to shreds and stained with gold. Even though half his body was restrained by vines and only had one hand free, he seemed to be having little difficulty fending off both my father and Aren with the rapier he had changed his sword into.

My father seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage, having scores of small slashes over his body. I also suspected the Z-shaped cut on his chest was more of Apollo's twisted sense of humour that seemed to emerge when he fought. The Huntress had several shallow cuts on her body, her red outfit stained a darker colour in places. For some reason I also found myself numbly noting her Santa hat was still perched firmly on her head, making her look like an elf that had been having a particularly bad day at work.

I looked back at the old man as he strode slowly towards me, "You fought brilliantly. I will admit that freely, Armani. You really have grown since we first met -not much in the vertical sense mind you - but you have exceeded my expectations. Shall I call this game of ours over at last?"

_The man speaks sense, and I rarely say that about him._

_Not...yet… _I thought back numbly, gathering as much of my remaining strength as I could in my right side.

He saw my hand twitch as I struggled to raise my blade and was only partially aware of the smile on his face, "And still you wont give up… you really are your mother's son."

"S'right," I slurred, "…I am." I managed to finish and as the groan of strain tearing from my throat exploded into a roar, I thrust myself up with my dwindling strength.

I gripped my sword by the hilt and, with my last grain of stamina… hurled it at the old man.

I saw 'Santa' ready himself to bat the unsuitable projectile aside, and would've done so effortlessly, had the weapon not morphed into a stygian spear mid-flight, passed straight through his guard and pierced him clean in the torso.

The old man looked down in disbelief in the instant he had before the pain registered. And then the instant passed. He arched back, a howl of pain tearing from his mouth as black smoke seemed to curl from the wound.

Apollo himself grasped his chest in shock, my Father used the moment of distraction to disarm the god as Aren pounced on him, forcing him to the floor and bringing her dagger to his throat whilst the vines about him grew and tightened.

'Santa's' outline blurred and distorted, and I knew this wasn't due to my rapidly failing consciousness affecting my vision.

Suddenly he stopped struggling, his outline solidifying.

He went silent, let out a tired breath and I caught a grudging smile on his face, "Kudos"

And without another word he exploded in a blaze of flame.

…_I won?_

_It would seem so. Now stop being stubborn and pass out already._

_Will do._

-A-

**December 25****th**** 2011 6:30am**

I awoke on the sofa, aching all over with Aren sitting over me, the Huntress having apparently fallen asleep right there, the bobble of her hat drooped over her face as she snoozed.

I looked sideways to see Lya curled up in Lanaya's lap, one of the rare times I had actually seen her sleep. Lanaya herself sat with almost closed eyes and I wondered for a moment if she were actually conscious either.

My father was stretched out in front of the fire, his broom/sword propped up against the wall. His long hair obscured his face as he snored quietly.

I shifted slightly and felt Aren stir. The motion also caused a shot of pain to course up my body.

_Okay…sore._

_You'll get no sympathy from me._

My eyes cleared and I noticed someone who I really didn't expect to still be here.

A disgruntled looking Apollo slouched with his arms folded in an armchair, his wounds healed and clothing restored.

I suddenly found myself saying through a dry throat, "You exploded."

He scoffed, "You stabbed me with stygian iron! Sometimes better to cut of an infected limb to save more pain."

I processed this through my still swimming head, "You self-destructed Santa Claus?"

He scowled, choosing not to clarify, instead saying "You're welcome by the way."

"Why?"

"I healed your's and your friends' injuries. Call it recompense for almost getting one over on me."

I cocked an eyebrow, "That's what you call loosing?"

He huffed, "The old man lost, not me."

I now realised I was probably about to get into an argument in which I would have to prove the god of the sun was really Santa Claus…

I decided to drop the topic.

I sighed as I realised this was as close to an admission of defeat as I'd ever get from Apollo.

"Then why do I still hurt like hell?" I decided to ask with a groan, Aren helping me into a sitting position, awake herself by now.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "I'm not _that_ merciful."

He groaned and pushed himself up; obviously discarding the separate Santa persona had weakened him somewhat, "Right, I'm off," he said, heading for the door, "from now on your _mom_ can deliver your Christmas presents for you…" he finished with a mutter as he closed the door behind himself.

I laid back, yawned and then paused to muse. "Now what am I going to do on Christmas Eve?"

I winced as I felt Aren twist one of my braids until it stung, "I'm going to assume that's your way of suggesting 'have a nice quiet evening in'"

"That's right…" she said in a cautioning tone and yet still she tugged me close enough to brush her lips quickly over mine, "Merry Christmas."

I laid back against her, "Merry Christmas, Aren."

She tilted my head around, pointing at her head" Now please tell me how to get this damned hat off."

I glanced up at it, "Where did you get that?"

She cocked her head towards my room, "Found it in the bottom of your wardrobe."

My eyes widened a tad, "That wouldn't happen to be the hat I left with a note pinned to it saying 'Stupid Apollo's stupid magic hat, do not wear', would it?"

"Is _that_ what that card said. I couldn't read a word of it."

I inclined my head, "Half-blood dyslexia is a bit of a downer."

She frowned, "No, I couldn't read it because it was written in bright yellow crayon."

I scowled, "I wrote it a while ago. Don't worry, it comes off on it's own at midnight tonight. The only other way is to have someone willingly accept it in your place. Just be glad you didn't put it on on the 26th."

She seemed to shudder at the thought, then flicked the bobble out of her face and smiled sweetly at me, "I'm not wearing it for you," I said, predicting her thoughts. she frowned in response, "So what happened after I blacked out?" I asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"Apollo demanded what he _called _a timeout… he never timed back in."

I rolled my eyes, "Unsurprising. It's not like him to _actually_ yield."

"And your dad spent an hour cleaning up afterwards. He'd still be out there if I hadn't threatened to hide his broom."

"And that stopped him?"

Aren inclined her head, "You'd be surprised. It was a gift from Lady Artemis after all. Ari hid it once as a prank a few decades back. He really didn't take that well."

"Pouted, did he?"

She looked uncomfortable, "If by _pout_ you mean 'dangled a certain Hunter by the foot off the edge of Olympus until she talked' then _yes_; he 'pouted'."

I glanced at my father as he began to wake, "Remind me never to make my dad upset."

I flinched in shock as a voice suddenly spoke from my right, "Many have made that mistake in the past. Few get the opportunity to repeat it." said my Mother, who had appeared out of nowhere and was sat on the other arm of the sofa, surveying the room.

"Lady Artemis!" gasped Aren, immediately getting to her feet to bow before her goddess.

"My lady." Said Lanaya curtly, inclining her head.

"Fuzzawuzzah…" muttered Lya incoherently, and immediately went back to sleep.

I smiled, "Hello, mother. You're early."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at me, "I rarely find myself sticking to schedules."

"Mistress!" snapped my father, bolting to his feet, somehow shaking his drowsiness off in the space of half a second, "You will find the temple clean. I must however submit myself for punishment in that I have not yet completed maintenance outside and that I dared allowed myself rest when one of your places of worship was less than perfect."

My mother glanced at Aren, "He wouldn't go to sleep so we dragged him in and threatened to take his broom from him."

My mother nodded, "Ah, I see." She turned back to my father, "You have done well, my servant and, as I have told you the last six thousand two hundred and forty-six times, I am pleased and will take no pleasure in punishing you, my faithful friend."

My father smiled and bowed, "As you wish, my lady."

"You came to see us alone?" I asked

"The others will be here soon, however the book I have been reading suggests occasional solo visitations to One's child at certain points in their life to be mutually beneficial. This is, after all, your first Christmas since I claimed you."

I inclined my head and smiled, "If that's the case, then I appreciate the gesture. Wait, just what book have you been reading?"

"This one." she said, materialising a large modern looking book with a glossy white cover.

I glanced at the cover, "'_Less is More: An Olympian Guide to Parenting'_"

The book vanished, "It has some interesting pointers and, although I don't agree with the separatist philosophy, it does raise some valid suggestions. Athena loaned it to me." I flinched as she scowled, "It is certainly more informative than that…that… _other_ book which _you_ gave me."

I frowned, "What book, I don't - ah_… that_ book." She cocked an eyebrow, waiting on an explanation. I shrugged, "I thought you would've found it enjoyable."

"And what, may I ask, lead you to that extremely bizarre assumption?"

"Simple, because it shows without a doubt just how badly needed you are in the world today. Do you have any idea how many millions of copies that thing sold? If that doesn't say something about the minds of the 'maidens' of the world today then I don't know what will."

She regarded me carefully, "Is that so?"

I nodded, "It certainly is… the excuse I'm sticking to."

She looked about to chastise me, but then just gave up and sighed, "I am starting to think I may need to start writing my own book on parenting."

"Of course, " I said, smiling, "I am one of a kind after all." and I leaned over and hugged her small form briefly, "but merry Christmas anyway, Mother."

Her shoulders sagged and she smiled reluctantly, "Yes, my tiresome child…Merry Christmas."

"You should probably get changed though." I said.

She glanced down at her standard Hunting outfit, "Why?"

"Because it's Christmas. You have to be, y'know…festive."

She glanced at Aren, "I am not dressing like _that_."

I barely suppressed a snort of laughter at the thought, "Of course not, though I'm sure you'd look…adorable."

And there was that scowl again.

A smirk spread itself into existence on my face. I suppressed it as soon as it appeared. "A compromise then."

She regarded me warily, "I'm listening."

"Just one piece of festive clothing. It really would make me happy, and Aren certainly too."

"It would?" she asked.

My mother was silent for an instant, "Very well…just one."

"You'll accept one piece of festive attire?"

She frowned, then inclined her head a millimetre.

I smiled, "Excellent." I said, and reached over to Aren, plucked the hat off her head and dropped it down on my mother's, "There we go. Now you look the part."

_Muahahahah._

_You really don't know when to stop, do you?_

_Merry Christmas to you too, crazy voice in my head_

I noticed my mother flush somewhat and I straightened it out on her head, "Looking good, mom."

She glared at me, "I'm taking it off as soon as the rest of the Hunters arrive."

"You do look quite fetching, Mistress."

"You're not helping, Hippolytus."

"A-Armani…" stammered Aren.

I turned round to her and smiled, patting her blonde hair down flat, "Yes, Aren?"

She just mutely shook her head, a tiny smile on her face, "I think I'll go get changed into something a little less…_this_."

"I maintain you look beautiful in it." I offered.

She blushed reluctantly as she turned and left.

My mother watched her leave, turning to me again, pausing to blow the bobble out of her face, I suppressed the urge to laugh again, "So…how have you been? Have you been staying out of trouble?"

"Aren has been doing her best and, with the exception of last night's excitement and a small incident with Amazon customer service, I'm glad to say things have been very…tranquil."

She nodded, "I am pleased. Though I hope you have not given Aren much cause to stay on her toes."

I glanced at her hat for a second, "nah, never had much reason. I've been as good as gold."

She regarded me blankly for a moment, "Am I wearing a cursed hat?"

I went silent, "…Maybe"

I expected a scolding, and instead she just gave me a tired smile.

I sighed and plucked it off her head and propped it on mine, "I suppose I can bare it until midnight."

We fell into a comfortable silence next to each other.

"So, how are things?" I asked quietly after a moment.

She was silent a moment more before replying, "I hesitate to speak."

"Hunter's honor I won't get involved," I said, giving a mock scout salute.

She cocked an eyebrow, "Are you trying to be funny?"

"I can never quite tell. Come on, promise I won't tell."

She frowned, seeming troubled, "There have been…stirrings."

"Stirrings?"

"What do you know of Gaia?"

I glanced at her, "Goddess of the Earth, right? Is there a problem?"

She frowned, "It could be nothing. It is not just Gaia that could be stirring, it Is Her children also."

"Her children? Trouble are they?"

She glanced back at me, "Considerably less so than you, but yes. However if at all possible-"

I cut in gently, "Don't worry; I've gone into early retirement until further notice. There are a generation of heroes out there who can handle it without me causing extra grief."

"Do not discredit yourself, Armani. I am proud of that which you have accomplished, never forget that."

I blushed slightly, "Yes, Mother."

The calm was disturbed by a gentle rapping on the front door, "The others have arrived. Aren, if you would?"

"Yes, Mistress." said the Huntress, who had changed into a more sensible ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt, before turning about and heading to let her sisters in.

The day turned very interesting from there on.

I learned several interesting facts this Christmas day: One was the fact that the Hunters could totally outmatch me at DDR.

I also learned Lanaya wasn't above spiking a certain goddess' eggnog. I wont wound her pride by describing the rather interesting effect it had on her. All I _will_ say is that it involved the nymph strategically placing some mistletoe and my father threatening to kill himself.

And finally, as the chaos went on around me, and Aren lounged happily at my side, I realised that though a peaceful Christmas may never be on the cards for me, I could live like this…

Yes, I think I'm going to enjoy my retirement...

_The end_

_[A/N] _Well this little side-story took a lot longer to complete than I first assumed. Though late, I hope I managed to keep you entertained for just a little while. Final thoughts, feelings, opinions? Hit the button below. I've had a bomb writing this little tale and who knows? I may be back at some time in the future. Until then…


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